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David, the Boy Harper 

A Story of 

David’s Boyhood and Youth 



Mrs. Annie E. Smiley 

Author of “Fifty Social Evenings,” “Junior League 
Methods and Programs,” Etc. 



CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE 
NEW YORK: EATON k MAINS 


79U>0 

Library of Congreaaj 

Two Copies Received! 

NOV 22 1900 

jf Copyright entry 

/yOo 

No. <2 4. 1.^.3 

SECOND copy 

Oeljvored to 

ORDER DIVISION 

DEC 6 1900 




COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY 
THE WESTERN METH- 
ODIST BOOK CONCERN 


PREFACE 



HE stories of Joseph, Samuel, and Daniel 


seem by right to belong to the children 
and youth of the Church and the world; but 
it seems to have been overlooked that David, 
the king of Israel, was ever a boy, with a boy’s 
hopes and ambitions, and a boy’s love oi wild 
and thrilling adventures. 

If David had not been the boy he was — 
brave, true, and loving — he would never have 
become the great general, wise king, and godly 
man that we find portrayed in the Scriptures. 

It is to emphasize the truth that the boy 
makes the man, that this story of David is 
written. 


3 



INDEX 


PAGE. 

I. Samuel Anoints David, 7 

II. David and His Nephews, - - - - 19 

III. A P'AMiLY Party, 30 

IV. David’s Encounter with the Bear, - - 40 

V. The Vision, 50 

VI. A Summons to the Palace, . - . - 62 

VII. David Stands Before the King, - - - 73 

VIII. The King’s Banquet, 84 

IX. Back to the Sheepfold, 95 

X. Selim Finds a Home, 106 

XI. Amasa Brings News from the Army, - - 117 

XII. David Kills Goliath, 128 

XIII. David and Jonathan, - - - - - 139 

XIV. David Marries the King’s Daughter, - 149 

XV. Michal Saves David’s Life, - - - - 160 

XVI. The Lad with the Arrows,,- - - - 172 

X^II. David Stoops to Deception, - - - - 184 

XVIII. The Cave of Adullam, 195 

XIX. The Journey to Moab, 206 

XX. David’s and Jonathan’s Last Meeting, - 218 

XXI. Dark Days and Bright, ----- 229 

XXII. To Moab and Back, 242 

XXIII. Danger and Deliverance, . . - - 254 

XXIV. The End of King Saul’s Reign, - - - 266 

XXV. David Crowned King of Judah, - - - 278 

XXVI. King of All Israel, 290 


5 


DAVID, THE BOY HARPER 


I 

SAMUEL ANOINTS DAVID 

A n old man entered the gates of the hill town 
of Bethlehem a little before noon of a sum- 
mer’s day, and asked to be directed to the house 
of Jesse, the Bethlehemite, whom he had come 
to honor by inviting him to a feast of sacrifice 
to the Lord. 

It was the judge of Israel, the Incorruptible 
Samuel, who from his home in Ramah made 
a yearly circuit of Bethel, Gilgal, and Mizpeh, 
in each of which places he held a kind of eccle- 
siastical court. 

Bixt why had he come to Bethlehem? The 
startled Jesse asked himself this question as 
he hastened to receive and welcome his dis- 
tinguished guest. Could it be anything con- 
cerning his boys? the anxious father asked him- 
self, as he thought of his eight goodly sons, the 
pride and joy of his heart. 

7 


8 


David, the Boy Harper 


The first question of the old judge confirmed 
the father’s fears, for he asked to see the young 
men of the household. 

One by one they passed before him, tall, well- 
formed young fellows, with manly look and mili- 
tary bearing; but of each one the old man said, 
with a shake of his head, ‘‘God hath not chosen 
this one,” until seven sons of Jesse had passed 
in review. 

‘Ts there not yet another?” the old judge 
asked the anxious father. 

‘‘There remains yet a lad who keeps the 
sheep,” the good Jesse replied; “but he is but 
a stripling.” 

“Send for him!” is Samuers command, and 
a servant is quickly sent to David, who hears 
with wonder and delight that the man whom 
he had often longed to see is a visitor at his 
father’s home. 

Breathless with running, the boy David ap- 
peared before the waiting Samuel, his sunny hair 
and rosy face as beautiful as a girl’s, but his 
well-knit frame and hardened muscles proclaim- 
ing him an active and manly youth, in spite of 
the fact that he was not as tall and brawny as 
his older brothers. 

“This is the Lord’s anointed,” the old man 


Samuel Anoints David 


9 


said; “for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for 
man looketh on the outward appearance, but the 
Lord looketh on the heart.” 

Out from the folds of his garment, Samuel 
drew a horn of anointing oil, and poured it 
on the head of the wondering lad, who stood 
speechless with surprise and awe. The visit was 
soon over, and life went on in the same old way. 
None of the members of the family seemed really 
to believe the words they had heard the old man 
speak, and perhaps did not quite comprehend 
the purpose of the anointing. 

But David never for a moment forgot how 
Samuel had told him that the Lord had chosen 
him to be king of Israel, and he often wondered 
whether he must fight for his crown, and whether 
long years would pass before he should change 
his humble shepherd’s home for the splendors 
of a royal palace. 

Jobab, the keeper of the sheep, often noticed 
a rapt look on the boy’s face, and thought to 
himself, “The lad is never the same since the 
day the old man from Ramah came.” 

But David wasted no time in dreaming. He 
watched over the sheep with the same tender 
care that he had always shown; he called each 
one by name ; and one little lamb, whose mother 


lo David, the Boy Harper 

had been devoured by some wild beast, was his 
constant pet and companion. 

‘‘I heard a lion roar last night in the forest,’’ 
Jobab, the keeper, said one morning, as David 
came from breakfast, carrying the lamb, who 
had run to meet him, on his shoulder. 

‘‘I wish he would bring his roarings where 
we could stop them forever,” the brave boy said, 
as he patted the head of the little motherless 
lamb. 

The wish was speedily fulfilled. On the even- 
ing of the same day, while old Jobab slept and 
the boy David lay looking up at the stars, with 
the lamb asleep beside him, a dark form, indis- 
tinct in the evening shadows, came bounding 
into the circle of sheep, and before the boy 
realized what was done a mountain lion had 
seized the pet lamb, and rushed off with it in 
his mouth. Grasping his staff, David hurried in 
pursuit, his only thought being the danger that 
threatened his pet. 

‘‘Thou hast devoured the mother, and now 
thou wouldst destroy her offspring, thou cruel 
beast,” he muttered, as he caught sight of the 
lion skulking in the shadow of the bushes. 

Quick as thought he sprang upon the startled 
beast, and snatched the trembling lamb from 


Samuel Anoints David 


II 


between his jaws. The lion, robbed of his prey, 
rose up with a mighty roar, and would have 
torn his assailant to pieces; but the fearless boy 
caught him by the beard, and rained blows upon 
him with his olive-wood staff until the roaring 
ceased, and the savage animal lay dead. 

''What art thou doing, lad?’’ old Jobab called 
out, as he came limping along as fast as his stiff 
joints would allow him. 

"Why did’st thou not wait for me to come 
and help thee?” 

"If I had waited, yonder lamb would have 
been torn to pieces and devoured. I fear he is 
hurt as it is,” David answered, as he lifted the 
lamb to its familiar place on his shoulder, and 
felt how its whole body trembled with the fright- 
ened beating of its little heart. 

"Only a scratch,” the old shepherd an- 
nounced, after looking the lamb carefully over. 
"Well done, my boy. I could not have dis- 
patched the old robber any better myself; but 
if I had not been heavy with sleep I would have 
been here sooner to help thee, hadst thou needed 
help.” 

Jobab was soon asleep again ; but David could 
not sleep. A song of praise was in his heart, 
and, going to the mouth of a nearby cavern, he 


12 David, the Boy Harper 

took therefrom a goatskin case, from which he 
drew a quaintly-carved harp, and striking its 
responsive strings he began to sing: 

‘When I consider thy heavens, the work of 
thy fingers; the moon and the stars which thou 
hast ordained; what is man that thou art mind- 
ful of him, and the son of man that thou visitest 
him? Thou madest him to have dominion over 
the works of thy hands, thou hast put all things 
under his feet. All sheep and oxen, yea, and 
the beasts of the field. O Lord, our Lord, how 
excellent is thy name in all the earth!” 

He sang very softly, that he might not 
awaken the sleeping shepherd, and his eyes were 
fixed upon the stars. A hush has fallen upon 
the sleeping world. The bare hillsides, dotted 
with sheep, looked dim and distant in the un- 
certain light, and the boy was alone with God. 
How often he had felt this blessed Divine com- 
panionship since the day of his anointing, and 
how sure he felt at such times of the fulfillment 
of God’s promise to him! 

Morning came, and David told the aston- 
ished family at home of his successful encounter 
with the lion, and showed them the lion’s tawny 
skin in confirmation of his story. 

“Those mountain lions are but cowardly crea- 


Samuel Anoints David 


13 


tures/’ Eliab, David’s oldest brother, said, con- 
temptuously. “If thou shouldst go down into 
the army, as Abinadab and Shammah and I are 
going soon, thou wouldst soon find out what 
real fighting means.” As he said these words 
he squared his broad shoulders, and looked down 
upon his younger brother. 

“The Lord who delivered the lion into my 
hands will teach my hands to war and my fin- 
gers to fight,” David answered, while Shammah 
laughed, and said in the patronizing way that 
older brothers often assume: “Thy fingers like 
better the dallying upon the strings of that in- 
strument of music the old harper gave thee. 
That is easier, I think, than handling the sword 
and spear.’’ 

“My David is no coward, if he does love his 
songs and his harp,” the mother hastened to 
say, for she saw the quick flush come to the boy’s 
face at the unmerited taunt. 

“Old Asaph had been a soldier in his day, 
and a brave soldier too,” said David, who had 
been the old harper’s admirer and confidant, and 
who had learned from him a few grand but sim- 
ple harmonies, to which he sang his psalms. 

“No one can be a soldier who is not tall and 
stately like the king,” Eliab hastened to say, for 


14 David, the Boy Harper 

it always nettled him, as the oldest son of the 
family, when the youngest was praised or no- 
ticed. 

“The king is indeed a goodly man,” said 
Jesse, proudly, “and I do not wonder that he 
has chosen my three tall sons to fight for him; 
but David is only a lad as yet ; he will yet shoot 
up like a young cedar, that puts on a year’s 
growth in the space of a few weeks.” 

“Thou speakest truly, my husband,” said the 
motherly Nahash, “so did our goodly Joab grow 
in stature, when his mother, Zeruiah, had almost 
despaired of his ever reaching the noble height 
and bearing of his brave father, Suri, whose early 
death at the hands of the cruel Philistines needs 
avenging by all our sons and grandsons.” 

“When come our good sister, Zeruiah, and 
her three brave boys to visit us again, dear 
mother?” David asked, as his older brothers 
scattered in their various pursuits and left him 
alone with his mother, who was never too busy 
to talk and sympathize with her highly-gifted 
and sensitive boy, who opened his heart to her 
more freely than to any of the others. 

“I look for them, to-day, my David,” his 
mother answered, with a loving look at the boy’s 
bright, happy face. “Our Zeruiah must needs 


Samuel Anoints David 


15 


come often to weep by her husband’s grave. I 
would that she might be at home again, as in 
the days of her happy girlhood; but she must 
hold her husband’s possessions for the sake of 
her sons until they are a few years older, and are 
ready to make homes of their own.” 

‘‘Joab is just my age, and Abishai is older, 
while Asahel is younger,” David said, musingly; 
‘‘yet Asahel is taller than either of us, and so 
swift of foot that I may well despair of overtak- 
ing him in a race.” 

“They will be good company for thee, my 
boy,” his mother said. “Thy brothers are so 
much older, and so full of thoughts of battle 
and of glory, that I fear thou art sometimes 
lonely, with only old Jobab and the sheep for 
company.” 

“No, mother dear, I am never lonely, not 
even when the dark thunderclouds sweep over 
the mountain, and Jobab has gone home, be- 
cause of his lameness and his fear of wet, and 
the sheep and I have taken refuge in the old 
cave on the hillside,” said David, while the rapt 
look the old vshepherd had often noticed kindled 
his eye and flushed his cheek. “I see the white 
horses of the Lord of hosts in the sweeping 
clouds, I hear the rumble of his chariots in the 


i6 David, the Boy Harper 

music of the thunder; but in my heart there Is 
peace. Why should I fear any more than the 
gentle sheep around me? The Lord is my Shep- 
herd, I shall not want; yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death I will 
fear no evil.’’ 

‘‘Nevertheless I fear for thee, my son,” said 
his mother. “The Philistine garrison is en- 
camped so near us, and raiding bands of soldiers 
are ready to pillage and destroy. Besides, they 
have driven the wild beasts from their accus- 
tomed hiding-places, and they come nearer the 
dwellings of man than was ever their wont be- 
fore. If thy father did not so feel the infirmities 
of age, he would not thus leave thee alone in 
the midst of dangers.” 

“Remember, dear mother, that I am not 
alone. One ^greater and stronger than my 
father is ever with me, and not one hair of this 
head, which so lately felt the anointing oil at 
the hand of our honored judge of Israel, will 
he suffer to be harmed. Sleep sweetly, my 
mother, for while I keep the sheep, the Lord 
is my keeper, my shade upon my right hand, 
and he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber 
nor sleep.” 

With a simple repast of bread and cheese, 


Samuel Anoints David 


17 


together with a few bunches of grapes, which 
his careful mother had provided for him, the 
happy boy went singing out of the house and 
across the fields to the hillsides, on which the 
sheep were feeding. 

Jobab received his share of the meal, and 
ate it in silence. He had been broken of his 
rest by the events of the night before, and the 
chill of the morning air made him shiver and 
shrink into the ample folds of his shepherd’s 
cloak of goatskin. 

“Thou needest not stay longer with the 
sheep,” David said, noticing the worn look on 
the old man’s face. “My sister’s sons are com- 
ing to-day for a long visit, and while they are 
here they will help me watch the sheep and milk 
the flock of goats. Thou mayest well take time 
to sit by a blazing fire and warm those aching 
joints.” 

“Few lads would I trust with the care of the 
flock,” the old man said; “but I can trust thee, 
my boy, for thou art willing to give even thy 
life for the sheep, and the man or boy who will 
do that is a good shepherd. But do not ven- 
ture to spend the night in the open air while 
the wild beasts roam about the hills as they are 
doing now, since those wilder beasts in the val- 


i8 David, the Boy Harper 

ley have driven them out. Call the flock after 
thee into the safe retreat of the cavern, and at 
the door of the cave keep a bright fire burning, 
and no beast will then molest thee.’’ 

The old shepherd laid down the piece of 
bread he was vainly trying to eat, for he had 
little appetite, and drawing his mantle about 
him he walked slowly and painfully away; for 
he was indeed ill, and it was many days before 
he was able to take up his accustomed duties 
again. 

David watched him as he limped across the 
fields until he disappeared behind the ridge that 
hid the one long street of Bethlehem. 


i 


II 


DAVID AND HIS NEPHEWS 

I T was almost nightfall before the expected 
guests arrived at the hospitable home of 
Jesse, and Nahash, the grandmother of the three 
boys, tried to persuade them to stay with her 
until the morning; for she did not know of 
Jobab’s illness, or that he had left David alone 
with the sheep. 

“Entreat us not to stay, good mother of our 
mother,” Abishai said, with the fine courtesy 
which was native to him. “We be but boys, 
and we have much to tell our good David, and 
could scarce wait for the slow motion of the 
country folks with whom we traveled from our 
home to yours.” 

So, laden with a goodly supply of fresh food, 
as necessary to growing, active boys then as 
now, the three brothers went springing across 
the fields and up the hillsides, chasing each other 
and shouting, until a stranger might have 
thought they were fleeing from a band of pur- 
suing Philistines. 


19 


20 David, the Boy Harper 

Asahel outstripped the others, and surprised 
the startled David as he was calling his sheep 
together into the cavern, as Jobab had pledged 
him to do. 

The shadows of the cave hid them from the 
other boys, who might have laughed at their 
warm greeting, and the two manly youths, who 
strangely resembled each other, were not 
ashamed to fall on each other’s necks with lov- 
ing words and embraces. 

Joab and Abishai came panting into the cave, 
and threw themselves down on a pile of straw 
that lay in an old stone manger at the right of 
the entrance to the cave. 

‘‘Asahel flies like a bird, and calls it running 
like a man,” Joab stammered out as soon as he 
recovered his breath. “I always expect to see 
him lose his balance and land in a tree, he spurns 
the earth so in his flight. As well try to over- 
take the eagle as to outrun that long-legged 
brother of mine.” 

“He is so light of foot that even the sheep 
did not hear him coming,” said David; “but 
glad was I to hear thy shouts in the valley, for 
I knew thou wouldst soon be here, and I have 
greatly longed to see thee.” 

“We came with a party of countrymen, who 


David and His Nephews 21 

brought provisions to sell to King Saul’s army,” 
said Abishai, in his quiet way. ‘^They drove a 
flock of kids before them, and our progress has 
been very slow, or we should have been here 
two hours ago.” 

^‘There was one slow little kid that I carried 
more than half the way, or we would not have 
been here yet,” Asahel said, with his quick, 
bright smile. 

‘‘The poor little thing was undersized, and 
will scarce make a mouthful for one of the king’s 
captains. I tried to buy it when we reached here, 
but the man would sell it to none but to one 
of the king’s soldiers.” 

“They have halted in the village for the night, 
and Uncle Eliab can buy it for thee in the morn- 
ing,” said Joab ; “he is one of the king’s soldiers, 
and not even the king himself is brighter or 
braver.” 

Meanwhile David’s pet lamb had crept to 
its favorite place beside him, and curled up 
like a kitten within the hollow of its pro- 
tector’s arm. 

David dipped a cloth in a vessel of water, 
which was standing near, and carefully bathed 
the wounded place in the lamb’s shoulder where 
the teeth of the lion had entered, while he told 


22 David, the Boy Harper 

the three boys the story of his encounter with 
the lion, and how he had rescued the lamb alive. 

“Perhaps the old lion’s mate may come to- 
night hunting for him,” the impetuous Joab 
said, springing up and peering out of the mouth 
of the cave towards the olive thicket, where 
David had killed the lion. 

“She will not find her mate if she comes,” 
said David. “His carcass is buried, and his skin 
I carried home. My mother will make of it a 
warm covering for my bed, and thus he who 
would have done me harm will do me good when 
the colder nights of winter come.” 

“I hope no one will tell our mother about 
the visit of the lion,” said Asahel. “She would 
scarce sleep if she thought we were in danger ; 
but I am not afraid. If one unaided could meet 
and overcome the king of beasts, we need not 
fear now, since we are four, and provided with 
this goodly store of stones and staves.” 

The fire at the entrance of the cave was soon 
lighted from smoldering embers buried in the 
ashes for the purpose, and the four boys sat down 
with their faces towards the cheerful blaze, and 
talked of boyish games and possessions, and told 
stories of exploits and adventures, which have 
been dear to boys’ hearts since the world began. 


David and His Nephews 23 

At last, tired out with their journey, the three 
brothers threw themselves down on the straw 
in the manger and slept, while David only awak- 
ened at intervals to put fresh wood on the fire, 
which kept up a cheerful glow at the mouth of 
the cave. 

No wild beast disturbed their slumbers, and 
the light of a radiant morning shining into the 
cavern awakened the four boys, who all sprang 
up at once, and Asahel challenged the others to 
a race down the hill and up the long street to 
the well of Bethlehem, which was by the gate, 
and whose waters were crystal clear and of a 
most refreshing coolness. 

Abishai willingly staid with the sheep, while 
the three younger boys started off on a morn- 
ing race that no one enjoyed more than David. 

Asahel was swifter of foot; but he did not 
know the land so well, for David sprang from 
rock to rock, and down the uncertain slope like 
a wild goat of the mountains; so it was David 
who first reached the well, and unslinging the 
earthen jar from his shoulder he dipped it in the 
cool water, and stood ready to offer a draught 
to Asahel and Joab when they reached his side. 

'‘The first draught belongs by right to thee,’' 
said Joab, "for thou hast fairly beaten us both. 


24 David, the Boy Harper 

The eagle can fly, but only the mountain goat 
can spring down the hillside, as thou hast done. 
If we had followed thee we should both have 
broken our necks.” 

“I drink of this water often,” David said, 
still holding it out. “I can well wait for thee, 
for it is many days since thou hast tasted water 
like this. Sometimes when I am away to the 
south with the sheep when the pasturage is poor, 
I think with longing of this water, for there is 
no water like this from the well by the gate.” 

After all had satisfied their thirst, the jar was 
filled afresh to be carried back to the cavern, 
and the four boys enjoyed a hearty breakfast 
together, after which the sheep were led down 
to a rippling stream for their morning drink. 

So the happy days passed by, with no more 
exciting incidents than those furnished by con- 
tests in running, leaping, wrestling, shooting at 
a mark with bows and arrows, and occasionally 
bringing down a pigeon or a partridge with 
smooth stones thrown from a sling. David ex- 
celled in the latter pastime. Even when a roe- 
buck was coming straight towards him with 
great leaps he rarely failed to bring it down, and 
many a savory meal did his mother and sister 
prepare with these spoils of the chase. The par- 


David and His Nephews 


25 


tridges were sometimes roasted by the boys, who 
held them over the fire on green sticks until they 
were done, and no other meal ever tastes quite 
so delicious to a boy as one he has prepared 
himself. 

At last a day of mist and rain kept the boys 
confined in the cavern, which, from its size and 
formation, was well adapted for a rude stable, 
and, indeed, it had been so used since the day 
of Boaz, David’s great-grandfather, from whom 
the landed possessions of David’s family had de- 
scended. 

‘We have scarce taken time for song,” Asahel 
said. “Yon harp will grow rusty with disuse. 
Sing us one of the songs with which thou wast 
wont to charm thy flocks, and even set old Jobab 
to dancing.” 

The boys laughed as they thought of the pic- 
ture the slow old shepherd would make if he 
should try to dance. 

“I will sing you a new song that you have 
never heard before,” David said, as he lifted his 
harp lovingly from its case, which hung on a 
wooden peg, which was driven into a crevice 
of the rocky side of the cavern. 

He played a few soft notes, and then began 
to sing, his music seeming to fill and thrill him 


26 David, the Boy Harper 

until he quite forgot his listeners, and even him- 
self. 

Praise ye the Lord, for it is good to sing 
praises unto our God ; for it is pleasant, and praise 
is comely. He healeth the broken in heart, and 
bindeth up their wounds. He telleth the number 
of the stars, he called them all by their names. 
He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young 
ravens which cry. Praise the Lord, O Jeru- 
salem ! praise thy God, O Zion !” 

Hardly had the music ceased, when a strange 
face looked in at the door of the cave, and a 
military figure, followed by half a dozen com- 
rades, came into the cavern, whose door was so 
high that they needed not to doff their helmets 
as they entered. 

''Such music as that is wasted in these wilds,’’ 
the soldier said, looking at the youthful mu- 
sician, who in his surprise still held his harp in 
his hand. 

"The king loves well the music of the harp, 
and if he knew of such a singing-bird as this 
in his realm he would call thee to a golden 
cag*e, and feed thee on the finest wheat and 
honey.” 

"I am ready to serve my king whenever he 
needs my service,” the boy said, his heart beat- 


David and His Nephews 27 

ing swiftly at the thought of such undreamed-of 
honor as to play before the king. 

‘‘I will speak of thee to him, and thou mayest 
yet hear further of this matter,” said the soldier, 
as he noticed the eager look on David’s face. 
‘‘But to-day I seek not a golden bird to sing 
to the king ; but a bird for him to eat. The king 
is not well; the cares of the kingdom weigh 
heavily upon him, and the desire for food has 
departed from him. On these hills we hope to 
find a cunning hunter, who will snare for us the 
wild game of the mountains, if, haply, our king 
may eat and be strengthened.” 

“These two plump partridges and this goodly 
pigeon have we taken this morning with the 
sling and stone,” David hastened to answer, 
“and proud will we be if the king’s servant will 
accept them at our hands.” 

“We be no foraging band, like yon dogs of 
Philistines, to take aught for the king without 
making payment,” said the man, haughtily; 
“but here is gold, and we will send a servant 
for more game, if so be the king’s pleasure 
requires.” 

“This tender lamb and kid will furnish forth 
our feast for the morrow,” said one of the sol- 
diers, who had not yet spoken, pointing to the 


28 


David, the Boy Harper 


two pet animals, who alone of all the flock had 
staid inside the cave with the boys. 

“We have others at home that are fattened 
to be killed, said David, “and our father owns 
the sheep and kids, and will gladly sell thee 
as many as thou desirest ; but these two are our 
children, our little motherless ones, that would 
die without our care.” 

Some of the rough soldiers laughed at this 
expression of tenderness; but the tall soldier 
who had entered first, and who was as brave 
as he was gentle, recognized a kindred spirit 
in David, and asked him why he cared so much 
for the little beasts. 

David told the story of the lion which had 
devoured the mother of his little lamb, and 
which had left the marks of his cruel teeth in 
the shoulder of the lamb, and modestly told 
how the Lord had given him strength to over- 
come the lion, and to kill him single-handed. 
He then briefly explained that his brother Eliab 
had bought the travel-worn little kid for his 
nephew, Asahel, and that it was highly prized 
because of its helplessness and loving intelli- 
gence, and because it was a present. 

“We will seek thy father’s house and buy of 
him, said the tall soldier, and, taking the game 


David and His Nephews 


29 


they had bought, the little band of soldiers hur- 
ried down the hillside to a spot at some little 
distance, where they had left their horses in the 
care of a servant. 

How eagerly the four boys watched the glit- 
tering trappings of the horses, and how proud 
they felt as they saw the soldiers mount and 
gallop away towards the house of Jesse! 

^^Our soldier uncles have no horses as yet,’’ 
said Abishai ; ‘'but when the king finds out how 
brave and noble our Eliab and Abinadab and 
Shammah are, he will mount them on horses as 
fine as those we have seen to-day.” 

This was a congenial topic, and the boys, 
who had been wonderfully moved by this excit- 
ing visit, found plenty to talk about until long 
after their usual bedtime. 


in 


A FAMILY PARTY 

OUR weeks had flown swiftly and pleas- 
* antly away since the coming' of the daughter 
of Jesse and her sons to the paternal home. The 
time had come for her to depart to her own 
home, and the boys knew that only a few more 
days remained for them to be together. 

Old Jobab was back on the hillside with 
the sheep, feeling strong and well again after 
his well-earned rest, and the boys were at lib- 
erty to spend the last few days as they pleased. 
The old house rung with their merry laughter, 
and two doting mothers looked on with de- 
lighted sympathy and pride. 

At last there was only one day more, and 
Jesse had determined on that day to make a 
feast, that they might rejoice together before 
his eldest daughter returned with her sons to 
her husband’s people, and his three brave sol- 
dier boys went forth to battle, and perhaps to 
death. 

The feast was spread in the open court, in 

30 


A Family Party 


31 


the middle of the house. Soft skins and cushions 
covered the floor, while a number of small tables, 
scarcely more than a foot in height, held the 
large open dishes of food, from which all ate 
in common. 

However, great delicacy and decorum were 
observed. The hands were washed with scru- 
pulous care, and the father of the family, after 
asking God’s blessing upon the food, took from 
the dishes various dainty morsels and offered 
them to the others before partaking himself. 
Roasted lamb and kid, savory game stews, veg- 
etables and fruits, with home-made bread, and 
curded cheese, and honey in the comb, made up 
a delicious meal, and all did full justice to it, 
with appetites sharpened by healthful exercise. 

All were dressed in their holiday attire; the 
boys in woolen tunics with bands of embroidery, 
while Nahash and her daughter wore garments 
of wrought needlework and fine linen, with a few 
jewels which were family heirlooms. 

The meal was ended, and soft-stepping serv- 
ants carried the little tables containing the empty 
dishes away. 

The time for after-dinner talk had come, and 
the boys begged their grandfather to tell them 
a story, hoping it would be a story of war and 


32 David, the Boy Harper 

bloodshed. But the old man’s thoughts were 
upon the past. He remembered, as if it were 
yesterday, when he was a boy, silent and 
thoughtful like Abishai, and how his beautiful 
mother, and still more beautiful grandmother, 
spread for him a feast in that same courtyard. 

“I will tell thee the story of the Rose of 
Moab,” he said, after a little pause, “and I will 
try to tell it as I have often heard my father 
tell it when I was a boy like you. 

“Now it came to pass in the days when the 
judges ruled that there was a famine in the land. 
And a certain man of Bethlehem-judah went 
to sojourn in the country of Moab, he, and his 
wife, and his two sons. And the name of the 
man was Elimelech, and the name of his wife 
Naomi, and the name of his two sons Mahlon 
and Chilion, Ephrathites of Bethlehem-judah. 
And they came into the country of Moab and 
continued there. And Elimelech, Naomi’s hus- 
band, died, and she was left and her two sons. 
And they took them wives of the women of 
Moab ; the name of the one was Orpah, and the 
name of the other Ruth and they dwelled there 
about ten years. 

“And Mahlon and Chilion died also both of 
them; and the woman was left of her two sons 


A Family Party 


33 


and her husband. Then she arose with her 
daughters-in-law, that she might return from 
the country of Moab. And Naomi said unto 
her two daughters-in-law, ‘Go, return each to her 
mother’s house ; the Lord deal kindly with you, 
as ye have dealt with the dead and with me.’ 
And they lifted up their voice and wept again; 
and Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth 
clave unto her. And she said, ‘Behold, thy sister- 
in-law is gone back unto her people and unto her 
gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law.’ 

“And Ruth said, ‘Entreat me not to leave 
thee, or to return from following after thee, for 
whither thou goest I will go, and where thou 
lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my 
people, and thy God my God. Where thou 
diest will I die, and there will I be buried; the 
Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but 
death part thee and me.’ 

“So they two went until they came to Beth- 
lehem, and they came to Bethlehem in the be- 
ginning of barley harvest. 

“And Naomi had a kinsman of her husband’s, 
a mighty man of wealth, and his name was 
Boaz. 

“And Ruth said unto Naomi, ‘Let me now 
go to the field and glean ears of corn after him 
3 


34 


David, the Boy Harper 


in whose sight I shall find grace/ And she said 
unto her, ‘Go, my daughter/ 

‘‘And she went and came and gleaned In the 
field after the reapers; and her hap was to light 
on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz, who 
was of the kindred of Elimelech. 

“Then Boaz said unto his servant that was 
set over the reapers, ‘Whose damsel is this?' 
And the servant said, ‘It is the damsel that came 
back with Naomi out of the country of Moab/ 
Then said Boaz unto Ruth, ‘Hearest thou not, 
my daughter? Go not to glean in another field, 
neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my 
maidens/ 

“So she kept fast by the maidens of Boaz to 
glean unto the end of barley harvest and of wheat 
harvest, and dwelt with her mother-in-law. 

“So Boaz took Ruth and she was his wife, 
and she bare a son. And the women said unto 
Naomi, ‘Blessed be the Lord which hath not 
left thee this day without a kinsman, that his 
name may be famous in Israel.' And Naomi 
took the child and laid it in her bosom, and be- 
came nurse unto it. And the women her neigh- 
bors gave it a name, and they called his name 
Obed; he is the father of Jesse, the father of 
David." 


A Family Party 


35 


As he finished the story he placed one hand 
on the head of David, his youngest born, and 
the other on the fair, clustering curls of his 
favorite grandson, Asahel. 

‘'The beauty of Ruth, the Rose of Moab, is 
upon thee, my children ; may her faith and trust 
in the Lord God of Israel be in thee, and abide 
with thee!'' 

‘T remember as a child," said Zeruiah, “how 
I put my veil upon me, and followed the reapers 
until they heaped the grain into my veil, and 
thou didst call me thy little Ruth," and she 
looked fondly at her father, whose children had 
never heard him speak one unkind word. 

“Thou art indeed fair, my daughter, like our 
beautiful kinswoman," said her father; “but these 
boys, I fear me, will become vain with so much 
beauty, which better befits a woman." 

“I would give more for a few inches in stature 
and in breadth of shoulders, than for all the 
womanish beauty in the world," said Eliab, tak- 
ing his good sword from a nail on the wall, and 
throwing it into the air. He threw it and caught 
it again a number of times, to the great delight 
of the boys, who were watching him. 

“O, let us see how thou wilt rush upon the 
Philistines in the day of battle!" said the boys 


36 David, the Boy Harper 

in chorus, and with one accord they followed 
the three soldier sons of the family into the open 
space before the house, and watched with de- 
light while they hurled the light javelin or 
wielded the heavier sword. 

These military exercises were a part of every 
day’s discipline, for re-enforcements were needed 
by Saul’s army, and the sons of Jesse had re- 
ceived a message bidding them report for duty 
on the following day. 

So there was an early breakfast on the follow- 
ing morning, and all was bustle and confusion 
as the beasts of burden were laden with baggage 
and with presents for the beloved daughter and 
her three sons in their journey to their home, 
and the suits of armor were burnished and pro- 
visions packed for the sons who were going to 
the battle. 

David watched the little cavalcade set ofif; 
for their way for some distance lay in the same 
direction, and Zeruiah and her sons were to 
meet the same company of countrymen with 
whom they had journeyed in coming, and re- 
turn with them to their home. 

Only a little cloud of dust on the distant 
plain showed where the travelers had disap- 
peared, when David turned back into the house 


A Family Party 


37 


with a touch of sadness that was quite unusual 
to his sunny nature. 

‘‘How still the house will seem with so much 
young life gone out of it David's mother said, 
as she busied herself in putting the disordered 
room to rights. “Well would it be for us if 
Amasa, the son of Abigail, our daughter, were 
like the sons of Zeruiah; but he is churlish, and 
likes better to lord it over the servants of Jether, 
his father, than to join in sports and pastimes 
with other youths of his age." 

“Perhaps had he been with us on our feast 
of yesterday he would have forgotten himself, 
and have been happy with us," said David, wist- 
fully. “Dost thou know, my mother, why it is 
that he did not come?" 

“His father, as thou knowest, is with the 
army, and Amasa likes better to ride on his swift 
mule, where he can watch the troops as they go 
out to battle, than to listen to the tales of peace, 
like that which thy father told thee yesterday. 
These be stormy times, my boy. May the God 
orf battles deliver us from the might and power 
of the enemy !" 

“But I have quite forgotten our good Jobab," 
David exclaimed, after a moment's pause. 
“Since yesterday morning he has had no fresh 


38 David, the Boy Harper 

food, and the bread and dates in his wallet must 
be dry and tasteless.” 

A fresh supply was soon made ready, and 
David hurried up the hillside, reproaching him- 
self for his forgetfulness and neglect of the old 
shepherd. 

The little lamb had been bleating piteously 
for his young master, and was more eager for his 
share of the food than was the keeper of the 
sheep. 

Old stomachs and old sheep do not cry out 
like young ones,” said the old man, good na- 
turedly, as he began eating the food that David 
had brought. “Yet, indeed, this honey and these 
fresh cakes of thy mother’s baking are worthy 
the table of a king.” 

“It would be a pity, indeed, should one lack 
bread in this house of bread,” * said David, 
while his eye swept over the broad fields of 
grain and the terraced hillsides, thick with clus- 
tering vines. 

“My father told us yestereve a story of his 
kinsman, Boaz, who once reaped the golden 
treasure of these fields, and who took to wife the 
beautiful Ruth, the rose of Moab.” 

“Would that I might have heard it,” said the 


Bethlehem means “ house of bread.” 


A Family Party 


39 


old shepherd. ‘'I remember the wife of Boaz 
as an old, old woman many years ago when I 
was a boy; for, as thou knowest, I was born in 
thy father’s house. She seemed not beautiful 
to my boyish eyes, for age is never beautiful to 
youth ; but there was something grand and holy 
about her that one could never forget.” 

^‘She was brave as well as beautiful, or she 
would never have dared to come with an un- 
protected woman from her own land to a land 
of strangers,” said David, more to himself than 
to the shepherd. 

It sometimes galled him to be reminded of 
his ‘Vomanish beauty” by his older brothers, 
and to be told that keeping sheep and gleaning 
after the reapers, or playing on the harp like a 
girl, was all he could ever hope to do. 

He felt within him the valor and love of king 
and country that would inspire him to dare or 
do great deeds, but the way seemed to be hedged 
up, and he could only confide to his beloved 
harp the surging emotions of love and loyalty 
that burned like a fire in his bones, and made his 
heart hot within him. 


IV 


DAVID'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE BEAR 

T he rainy season was now coming on, and 
the nights were cold. Slight flurries of snow 
fell occasionally, for it was winter; but the days 
were often hot, and the snow soon melted away. 
There was never frost enough to injure the 
grasses and herbs on which the sheep browsed, 
and the roomy old cavern served for a warm 
shelter for both sheep and shepherds, for Jesse’s 
wealth of flocks was but a handful compared to 
that of his illustrious kinsman, Boaz, the founder 
of his family. 

David rejoiced in the glory of the winter, 
when the white snow lay like a mantle on the 
distant hills and mountains he loved to watch 
for the first gleams of the morning sun, which 
to him seemed like a bridegroom coming out of 
his chamber, or like a strong man making ready 
to run a race. 

At sunset he loved to watch the sun go down 
over the hills, and he felt a sense of blessed secur- 
ity as he sang: ‘‘They that trust in the Lord 

40 


David’s Encounter with the Bear 


41 


shall be as Mount Zion, which can not be re- 
moved, but abideth forever. As the mountains 
are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is 
round about his people from henceforth, even 
for ever.’’ 

In the evening when the fire was blazing in 
front of the cavern he loved to sing old Jobab 
to sleep with songs of God’s goodness, as dis- 
played in all his wonderful works. 

The harp responded to his varying moods. 
It clashed like battle-swords when he sang: 
‘^Come, behold the works of the Lord, what 
desolations he hath made in the earth. He 
maketh wars to cease unto the ends of the earth, 
he breaketh the bow and cutteth the spear in 
sunder, he burnetii the chariot in the fire.” It 
rang out in triumph when he sang: clap 

your hands, all ye people, shout unto the Lord 
with the voice of triumph; for the Lord most 
high is terrible; he is a great King over all the 
earth! He shall subdue the people under us, 
and the nations under our feet.” How strong in 
the Lord he felt as he sang, and how glad of his 
inheritance as a child of God ! 

He thought of the armies of the uncircum- 
cised Philistines, who defied the armies of the 
living God, and he could scarcely wait until he 


42 


David, the Boy Harper 


was old enough to share in the victories which 
he knew God had promised to his faithful people. 

But if no Philistines came to try his courage, 
he was soon to have another test which required 
more real courage and strength than his en- 
counter with the lion had done. 

One day, not long after the events of the 
previous chapter, one of the sheep was missing, 
as they were counted when they came into the 
cavern at night. 

The following day another was gone, yet 
neither David nor the old shepherd had seen any 
evil beast, or even heard the roar of a lion, or 
the growl of a bear or panther. 

‘‘We must no longer suffer them to go to the 
stream alone,’’ said Jobab. “It is while the sheep 
are drinking that some thieving beast rushes out 
upon them, and bears one of them away to his 
den.” 

The next morning, as the sheep were hurry- 
ing down the narrow, well-worn path, led by one 
old sheep whose duty it was to lead them to 
water, David ran ahead, that he might arrive at 
the stream before the nearest sheep should 
reach it. 

The sheep were eager for a drink, and came 
crowding after him as he hurried on before. In 


David's Encounter with the Bear 


43 


his hand he carried the stout olive-wood staf? 
with which he had killed the lion. It was shaped 
from the root of an old olive-tree, and the wood 
was tough and black, and almost as heavy as 
iron. 

His pet lamb, who was now no longer so 
weak and helpless as in former days, he had left 
tethered to a small tree near the cavern, that he 
might not be hampered by its presence if any 
danger should come. 

Old Jobab brought up the rear, and no sooner 
had the sheep begun to drink than a huge bear 
rushed out of the bushes that grew by the 
stream, and seizing upon the nearest sheep ran 
off with it in his mouth. 

Both David and Jobab started in pursuit, and 
it was remarkable how the old man ran. But 
the race was long, and a sharp pain in the old 
shepherd’s side forced him to stop just before 
reaching a dark den in the rocks, into which the 
bear scrambled, with David in hot pursuit. 

‘‘Go not into the cave, in God’s name, I en- 
treat thee,” Jobab called out; but David either 
did not hear or did not heed his words, and both 
pursued and pursuer were swallowed up in the 
dark recesses of the cave. 

“O, God of my fathers, save the lad !” Jobab 


44 David, the Boy Harper 

groaned out, as he threw himself upon his face. 
“Have mercy upon me and spare the lad; re- 
member, O Lord, that he is but young and 
foolish thus to throw his life away. He is the 
light of his old father’s eyes and the joy of his 
mother’s heart. O God, have mercy upon us, 
and spare the lad, for thy name’s sake !” 

The minutes seemed hours while the old man 
lay on his face, not daring to look up; not be- 
cause he was a coward, for he never thought of 
his own danger, but David, the darling and pride 
of the home ; how could he ever show his face to 
Jesse if harm had come to the boy? 

At last the old bear rushed out of the cave, 
evidently wounded, for blood marked the path- 
way, and the trail could be easily followed be- 
cause of the light snow which had fallen during 
the previous night. 

“My David is surely killed!” the old man 
groaned, as he started up with strength born of 
desperation, and hurried into the cave. The 
light was dim; but a well-known voice called 
out: “Beware of the old bear. I have finished 
the cubs, but she has escaped me, though sorely 
wounded.” 

“Come on, my boy, we can follow her by the 
trail of blood in the snow,” the old shepherd 


David’s Encounter with the Bear 


45 


cried out, all the fighting blood of former days 
asserting itself. 

Both men started out on the trail, which led 
straight back towards the stream, where the 
frightened sheep were huddled together. 

‘‘She stole our sheep to feed her cubs,^’ said 
the soft-hearted boy; “but thieves must be pun- 
ished, and she will need no more food for her 
snarling, half-grown cubs, for they both lie dead 
in the cave.’’ 

Weak from the loss of blood, the bear’s pace 
slackened, and David soon came up to her, and 
dispatched her with a few strong, well-directed 
blows. 

Both men gathered stones from the bed of 
the stream, and heaped them upon the body of 
the bear until it was hidden from sight, for it was 
too heavy for them to drag up the hill, and they 
did not esteem its flesh as fit for food. 

“This is the last day that I will stay with thee 
alone in this place,” old Jobab said, after they 
had reached the familiar cavern and were prepar- 
ing to eat their morning meal. “I am not what 
I was, and I can not protect the flock as I used 
to do,” the shepherd continued. “My two 
brothers in the watch-tower of the vineyard must 
needs come to bear me company. I have long 


46 David, the Boy Harper 

thought of this, not because thou art not a good 
shepherd, my brave boy, for never have I seen a 
better one; but evil beasts are increased and sur- 
round us on every side, and we must needs have 
numbers to meet and overcome them.” 

David talked and pleaded in vain, for the old 
man’s mind was made up, and he shortly took 
his way across the fields to lay his request before 
the astonished and sympathizing Jesse. 

“David, indeed, is like a young lion in his 
strength ; but I am the old lion who has lost his 
teeth, and we two are no longer able to guard 
the flock, unless there be some to help us.” 

So it was soon arranged that Ithri and Merari, 
Jobab’s younger brothers, should be relieved of 
their duties in the watch-tower, and permitted to 
join him in keeping the sheep. 

In the intervals of time during their stay in 
the vineyard they had learned to make the flat, 
open baskets in which the grapes were gathered, 
and they asked that they might be allowed to 
take with them the materials necessary for weav- 
ing the baskets, as there would be little to do on 
the hillsides, except in cases of emergency. 

This permission was given, and a few days 
after the exciting events just given a sure-footed 
mule, laden with the baggage of the two 


David’s Encounter with the Bear 


47 


brothers, came picking its way up the steep path, 
with the two men following close behind. 

The meeting of the brothers was without 
show of emotion, though they were glad to be 
together again. 

Both men were brave and trusty, for the post 
of duty from which they had been relieved was 
even more fraught with danger than was the 
life of a shepherd of the hills. 

It was nearer the dreaded enemy, who were 
encamped in the valley of Elah, and frequent 
predatory raids were made by the Philistine 
soldiery, who loved well to plunder and de- 
stroy the beautiful and fruitful vineyards around 
them. 

David was more alone than ever, for the 
brothers talked to each other as they sat at the 
cave’s door watching the sheep and weaving 
their baskets. 

But it gave him more time to hunt for small 
game with his bow and arrows, or with smooth 
stones thrown from his sling. He often wished, 
when a fine plump bird fell before his aim, that 
the servant of the king would come again for 
game for his royal master. 

But he never came. Either the king was not 
well pleased with the taste of the birds which his 


48 


David, the Boy Harper 


servant had brought, or else a supply had been 
found nearer home. 

David also remembered the promise of the 
tall soldier with the kind, friendly eyes, who had 
said he would tell the king of the singing-bird 
of the hills, and that the king would open for 
him the door of a golden cage, and feed him 
upon wheat and honey. 

Had the man been playing with idle words 
when he made such promises, or did the king 
think him unworthy of so high an honor, being 
only a shepherd-boy? 

He could not doubt the word or the honor 
of the tall soldier, for uprightness was written 
on his face ; so he waited in patience, hoping that 
the longed-for summons would come, and striv- 
ing to perfect himself in his playing and singing 
by constant practice. 

One song he often repeated, for he thought, 
“If the day ever comes that I shall stand before 
the king with my harp, I will sing these words 
unto him.” 

Words and tune seemed fitted for each other, 
for when he sang, “Lift up your heads, O ye 
gates !” the music rose with the theme, and when 
he asked the question, “Who is this King of 
glory?” a crash of melody, as if it were a multi- 


David's Encounter with the Bear 


49 


tude of heavenly voices, answered, ‘'The Lord 
of hosts ; he is the King of glory/’ 

Another song about the king he often sang, 
that he might learn it by heart : “Give the King 
thy judgments, O God, and thy righteousness 
unto the king’s son. He shall judge the poor 
of the people, he shall save the children of the 
needy, and shall break in pieces the oppressor. 
He shall come down like rain upon the mown 
grass, as showers that water the earth. He shall 
have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the 
river unto the ends of the earth. They that 
dwell in the wilderness shall bow before him, and 
his enemies shall lick the dust. Yea, all kings 
shall bow down before him, all nations shall serve 
him. For he shall deliver the needy when he 
crieth, the poor also, and him that hath no 
helper. His name shall endure forever: his 
name shall be continued as long as the sun, and 
men shall be blessed in him : all nations shall call 
him blessed.” 

4 


V 


THE VISION 

T hat night David went to sleep still think- 
ing of the King about whom he had been 
singing, and wondering if King Saul and his 
noble son Jonathan were indeed to have do- 
minion from sea to sea, and from the river to the 
ends of the earth, or if another king should 
complete the victories begun by Saul. 

That the fulfillment would come he never 
doubted, for the greatest of his songs seemed 
to sing themselves in his heart, and he felt that 
they were from God. 

God of Israel, when my time shall come, 
make me worthy was his prayer as he lay mus- 
ing on the words of Samuel, that God had chosen 
him to be king of Israel. 

‘‘But it can be neither Saul nor David who is 
to have universal dominion,’’ he murmured 
while half asleep and half awake, “for when I 
ask, ‘Who is this King of glory?’ the voices of 
a multitude seem to answer, ‘The Lord of hosts, 
he is the King of glory.’ ” 


50 


The Vision 


51 


Meanwhile he slept, and in his sleep he 
deamed a wonderful dream. He saw himself 
lying in the straw of the manger, just as he had 
lain down to sleep ; but he was no longer a well- 
grown youth, but lay a babe in his mother's 
arms. Was that his mother's face bending over 
him, or was it not rather his sister Zeruiah, when 
as a maiden she held her veil out that the reapers 
might fill it with grain? It was a young and 
beautiful face, and how it beamed with holy love ! 
‘‘There was something grand and holy about her 
that you could never forget." These were the 
words of old Jobab when he spoke of Ruth, as 
he remembered her, and no other words seemed 
so fitly to describe the face David saw in his 
dream. There was something strange and yet 
familiar in everything that passed in that mar- 
velous vision. The sheep were lying in groups, 
as he had often seen them before ; the mule, that 
had picked its careful way up the steep hillside 
only a few days before, was standing at the foot 
of the manger, as he had seen it when all was 
made ready for the night ; even the pet Iamb was 
there beside him, but its wool was white and 
glistening, and in its eyes was a look he had 
never seen before. 

He looked out of the door of the cavern, and 


52 


David, the Boy Harper 


lo! the fire that was burning on the ground 
seemed to rise into the air and hang there, 
brightening and glowing like a luminous star. 
In its light he saw the forms of Jobab and his 
brothers standing with rich gifts in their hands. 
Could it be the three humble shepherds that he 
saw? They approached his resting-place, and a 
wonderful wisdom and dignity was upon each 
face, and he caught a gleam of gold and crim- 
son embroidery in their strangely-fashioned gar- 
ments. The face of the mother glowed with holy 
joy; the babe held out his tiny hands to play 
with the shining golden chains and jingling 
coins that the three venerable men held out 
to him. 

From the distant hills there came the echo 
of a song, ‘‘Glory to God in the highest, and on 
earth peace, good will toward men.’’ David saw 
and heard, for in his dream he was the child, and 
yet not the child, and a voice seemed to say as 
he beheld the babe in his beauty, “The Lord of 
hosts, he is the King of glory.” 

Soon the scene changed, and David seemed 
to see one hastily unfasten the mule and set the 
mother thereon, with the blessed babe in her 
arms. A kind man led the mule, and they set 
out on the path that led toward the caravan road 


The Vision 


53 


that goes down to the land of Egypt. “They 
seek the young child to destroy him” he heard 
the kind man say, and then babe and mother 
faded from his sight, and he was left alone. Soon 
a confused murmur of voices came to his ears, 
and he seemed to be standing beside Rachel’s 
tomb, just outside the town of Bethlehem. 
Mothers with young children in their arms were 
running to and fro, trying in vain to hide from 
fierce-browed men with swords in their hands. 
Then David knew what the kind man meant 
when he said, “They seek the young child to 
destroy him,” and he was glad in his heart that 
the young child and his mother were safe. 

The vision changed again, and David seemed 
to stand within a grand and lofty temple, the like 
of which he had never seen or imagined. He 
felt alone and almost afraid until suddenly he 
saw again the mother and child of his dream, 
with the kind and just man still with them. The 
mother brought two turtledoves for an of¥ering. 
An old man took the child in his arms, and said, 
“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in 
peace according to thy word, for my eyes have 
seen thy salvation.” Again another picture came 
before the wondering eyes of David as he slept. 
In the same temple were he had seen the Divine 


54 


David, the Boy Harper 


babe, a boy of twelve years was standing, while 
around him sat a circle of grave and venerable 
men. The boy was asking eager questions, and 
the wise and learned men were answering him 
and inquiring of him, when suddenly the mother, 
whose face David could never forget, came up 
to where her son was standing, and said, ‘‘We 
have sought thee sorrowing, my son.’’ “Wist 
ye not that I must be about my Father’s busi- 
ness?” the boy asked, with a loving and tender 
look, which his mother well understood, so often 
did David smile upon his mother when she 
chided him for some unintended fault. 

Years seemed to pass, as in a dream, to the 
sleeping David. He followed the holy family to 
a hill town far to the north, and saw the boy, so 
like himself and yet not himself, growing to a 
strong and beautiful manhood. He saw the 
gentle mother, and noted that she hid in her 
heart her thoughts of her son, and rarely spoke 
of his mission, even to him. “He, too, will some 
day be a King,” young David thought, with 
quick sympathy, “and yet how gentle and lov- 
ing and humble he is!” 

At last David saw the young man, thirty years 
old, starting out into the great world to fulfill 
his heaven-born mission. After a period of wan- 


The Vision 


55 


dering in desert places, the young man stood 
beside a wide, flowing river. 

David seemed to follow his steps with an 
eager joy, which he had never felt before. A 
great throng of people stood by the river-side, 
and a man in a shaggy robe, like a shepherd, was 
pouring water upon them, while he spoke some 
words that David could not hear. 

Soon he saw the young man standing in the 
water, and upon his head a snow-white dove had 
alighted, while a voice, sweeter than the sweetest 
music of the harp, seemed to come from a bright 
cloud overhead, “This is my beloved Son, in 
whom I am well pleased.” 

Then David knew the meaning of the song 
he had heard when he saw the babe in the 
manger, and with a quick, glad thrill of joy he 
recognized the Son of God. 

“I will never lose sight of him again,” was 
David’s thought, as he joined himself to a little 
group of men who were following the newly- 
baptized young man, and David heard one of 
them say, “Behold the Lamb of God, which 
taketh away the sins of the world !” 

It was no weariness, but rather a great joy 
to David to follow the Lamb of God, as he called 
him in his heart, wherever he journeyed. He 


56 David, the Boy Harper 

was no longer alone, for twelve sturdy men were 
always with him, and one of the twelve loved his 
Master with his whole heart and soul. David, 
who knew what love was, felt the strength and 
beauty of his attachment for his Master. Many 
times the Master and the twelve were seated on 
the shores of a blue and sparkling lake, and he 
spoke wonderful words to them, and the boy 
David listened as in a glad, beautiful dream. 
Once he caught a glimpse of the Master with the 
one who loved him best and two others on the 
summit of a lofty, snow-capped mountain. A 
bright cloud, like the one seen at the river side, 
from which the voice seemed to proceed, over- 
shadowed the mountain, and again the voice of 
unutterable sweetness sounded, and David heard 
the words, ‘‘This is my beloved Son, hear ye 
him.’’ 

Many scenes passed swiftly before the sleep- 
ing David’s vision, and they filled him with a 
gladness and joy he had never known before; 
but they vanished quickly, and new scenes 
opened before him. At last he saw a great 
throng of people, many of them on foot, and in 
the midst the Master rode like a king. Palm 
branches and rich shawls and garments were 
thrown in the way for him to ride over, and the 


The Vision 


57 


people sang and shouted for joy. Some children 
near David were shouting, as they clapped their 
hands and sang, ‘'Hosannah to the Son of David, 
blessed is he that cometh in the name of the 
Lord.’’ 

What could it mean? Was the Son of God 
also David’s son? Was this the reason why 
David’s heart had been so drawn to the stranger 
from the first time he had seen him as a helpless 
babe in the manger? 

“It must be so,” David thought, “for he seems 
my very self, nearer than father or mother, 
nearer than brothers or kinsmen.” 

After the triumphal entry into a great city, 
and into the beautiful temple David had seen 
twice before, a change seemed to come over the 
people. Low mutterings and dark threats were 
heard instead of songs and praises, and many 
who had followed the Master went back, and 
walked no more with him. 

One of the twelve even became a traitor. He 
carried the common purse, and greed of gold 
overcame him, until at last he betrayed his Mas- 
ter with a kiss, and sold him for thirty pieces of 
silver. 

It was in a garden, where the old olive-trees 
threw a dense shade over the ground beneath. 


53 


David, the Boy Harper 


The Master kneeled in prayer, and great drops 
of sweat stood on his pale forehead, as the moon- 
light sifting through the trees revealed him. 
Soldiers with torches came, and all of his trusted 
ones forsook him and fled ; while the Master was 
led away to imprisonment and death. 

David’s eyes were misty with tears, so he 
could scarcely see the scenes that followed in 
quick succession; but at last, against the glow- 
ing sky he saw three crosses stand, and on the 
one in the midst he saw again that well-loved 
face, pale with suffering, but radiant with im- 
mortal hope. 

At the foot of the cross stood the mother, 
with the same calm, holy look David had seen 
upon her face when he had seen her first. But 
the radiant beauty of girlhood was gone ; instead 
there shone the holy light of an undying love. 
Sustaining her fainting form the Master’s loved 
and trusted follower stood, faithful to the end. 

‘Tt is finished !” were the Master’s words, and 
the eyes so full of tenderest compassion were 
closed in death. Above him were the words, 
‘‘This is the King of the Jews.” 

“Is he indeed a king?” David thought. “Can 
it be that I, too, must win my crown by suffering 
and death?” 


The Vision 


59 


One other scene followed this sad and dread- 
ful one of th§ cross. The Master had risen from 
the dead, and led his little band of followers to a 
hill just outside the city. How sweetly he talked 
to them as they walked along, and what joy was 
in their faces as he explained to them that his 
kingdom was not of this world, but that it was to 
be an everlasting kingdom, whose glories they 
should share. ‘Tf I go I will come again, and 
receive you unto myself,’’ he assured them. 

Suddenly the clouds above him parted like a 
scroll when it is rolled apart. Radiant forms 
were crowding all the pulsing air, and the Mas- 
ter’s form became white and glistening, and his 
face shone as it had beamed with light on the 
summit of the high mountain. The radiant 
forms seemed to surround him and bear him 
away, and while his followers were eagerly look- 
ing he vanished from their sight. 

And while they looked steadfastly toward 
heaven as he went up, behold two men stood by 
them in white apparel, which also said: ‘‘Why 
stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same 
Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven 
shall so come in like manner, as ye have seen 
him go into heaven.” 

Faith reigned in every heart, joy beamed in 


6o 


David, the Boy Harper 


every face, and the scene faded away from 
David’s wondering eyes. 

‘‘O King of glory, make me like thee!” was 
David’s prayer as he woke and saw the every- 
day sun shining into the cavern, and found to his 
surprise that everything about him was as it had 
been the day before. 

Jobab and his brothers wore their worn and 
shabby cloaks, in which he could catch no gleam 
of gold and crimson ; the pet lamb’s coat of wool 
was gray instead of being white and glistening, 
as he had seen it in his dream ; on the straw in 
the manger was no print of a baby’s tender form, 
and all was as it had been* 

But the boy David had grown in a single 
night as, his father had said, a young cedar 
sometimes puts on a year’s growth in a few 
weeks. His soul had grown and expanded. 
Companionship with such a kingly character as 
that which had been revealed to him in his vision 
had opened to him a new and grander life, a life 
of love, humility, and self-sacrifice. 

He told no one of his dream, but he saw ever 
before him the vision of the crucified One, and 
a new joy filled his heart as he thought of the 
heavenly kingdom, in whose glories he too 
should share. 


The Vision 


6i 


'‘David grows taller and stronger every day/' 
Ithri said to his brother Jobab, soon after the 
night of the vision. “It has made a man of him 
to fight and to overcome the wild beasts of the 
mountain." 

“It is more than that, my brother," the old 
shepherd answered. “He grows from within, 
like a seed that is sprouting, and there is some- 
times a look on his face I can not understand. 
He is never the same since the old man from 
Ramah came to his father's house." 


VI 


A SUMMONS TO THE PALACE 
HE very next morning after the events of 



1 the last chapter a messenger from David’s 
father came panting up the hill, and told the 
astonished little group that a tall soldier in splen- 
did uniform and riding an Arabian horse had 
come galloping into the yard, and had requested 
Jesse to send his son David to the palace of King 
Saul, to take his place among the king’s mu- 
sicians. 

So it had come at last, the day to which David 
had looked forward with hope and longing. 

'‘How glad I am that I need not leave thee 
alone!” David said to Jobab, as he hastily gath- 
ered up his cherished possessions, including his 
bow and arrows, his sling and wallet, his staff of 
olive-wood, with which he had killed the lion and 
the bear, and his harp in its leathern case, from 
which he carefully brushed the loose straw and 
dust. 

"I expected this,” the old shepherd said. "I 
knew the young eagle would not stay longer in 


62 


A Summons to the Palace 


63 


the nest, now that his wings are grown strong. 
God’s blessing be upon thee, my boy, and re- 
member that among the hills an old shepherd 
is praying for thy welfare.” 

David hardly dared trust his voice to answer, 
his heart was so full ; for he realized that the old, 
care-free life was over, and a new and untried 
life was opening before him. 

‘‘I shall come back again,” he called out, 
as he followed the messenger down the steep 
slope. 

‘^Thou mayest indeed come back, but never 
to stay as before,” Jobab said, almost to himself, 
as with dim eyes he watched the boy take his de- 
parture, and carry with him the young life and 
enthusiasm as well as the music and song which 
had made’ his shepherd life with the lad so 
pleasant. 

But old hearts do not cry out any more than 
old stomachs, and Jobab went about his duties 
as usual, and talked with his brothers so cheer- 
fully that they never dreamed how sorely he 
missed the lad, whom he had known and loved 
from babyhood. 

A few days after David’s departure, the three 
shepherds heard a great roaring in the forest, 
and when daylight came they dug a pit near the 


64 


David, the Boy Harper 


edge of the forest, and put the body of a kid, 
which they had killed, upon loose twigs and 
brush with which they had covered the pit, and 
to their delight and pride they captured two 
lions alive in the pit. To shoot them with arrows 
was easy work, and the three shepherds talked 
together of the stories they should have to tell 
David when he returned. 

Meanwhile David was passing through some 
new and thrilling experiences. When he reached 
the house on the morning he received his father's 
message, to his great delight he found that the 
tall soldier was his own old-time friend, who had 
promised to speak a good word for him to the 
king. It was, indeed, no less a personage than 
the armor-bearer of Jonathan, King Saul’s fa- 
vorite son, who had come to conduct young 
David to the presence of the king. 

Jesse hasted to set before his honored guest 
the best that the house afforded, and to beg him 
to partake of his hospitality before setting out 
on his journey. 

While he ate, the armor-bearer talked of the 
king’s strange malady, of the king’s son’s won- 
derful bravery, and at last he quite won the heart 
of his host by a well-turned compliment on the 
soldierly bearing and manly strength of Jesse’s 


A Summons to the Palace 


65 


three sons, who were trusted soldiers in King 
Saul’s army. 

To DavM the armor-bearer said but little 
until they were well on their way, for their ten 
miles’ ride to Gibeah of Saul. Jesse had given 
his son David a young ass that was noted for 
swiftness on which to ride, and had sent a pres- 
ent of bread, wine, and a kid to King Saul, to 
show how willingly he gave up his youngest son 
to the service of the king. 

“I knew I should see thee again,” David said 
to the armor-bearer, after the spirited Arabian 
horse had indulged in his first swift gallop of a 
couple of miles, and the soldier had reined him 
up under a tree until David should come up with 
him. 

“Soldiers’ promises are sometimes writ in the 
sand,” the armor-bearer replied, smiling down 
on his young companion. “What made thee to 
think that I should remember my promise?” 

“I could read it in thy face,” David said, look- 
ing up at him. “Thine eyes said to me, ‘Fear 
not, I will not forget,’ and I knew I could trust 
thee.” 

“Thou hast wonderful eyes to see so much,” 
the soldier answered, laughing; “but, indeed, I 
spoke of thee that very day to the king, and but 
5 


66 


David, the Boy Harper 


for a sudden invasion that drove all thoughts 
of peace from the king’s mind he would have 
sent for thee long ere this; but now the king is 
again ill, and we look to thee to cheer him with 
thy songs.” 

‘‘I hope I shall not shame thee when I stand 
in the king’s presence,” David said ; ‘'but I have 
not been taught in the schools to play the harp, 
but have learned my simple tunes of old Asaph, 
a harper in my father’s house, and the songs of 
God’s goodness which I sing God gives me, in 
sleeping and in waking visions.” 

“Can there be any better songs than those 
God gives?” the soldier asked with a tender rev- 
erence that filled David’s heart with joy, for now 
he knew that this grand and noble man was a 
brother indeed, and his fear vanished utterly. 

“Art thou not too a poet?” David asked, 
after a few minutes of silence. 

“My heart gallops like my beautiful Mustapha 
here when I hear a martial strain,” the soldier 
said, “and it goes to sleep like a bird in its nest 
when I hear a song like yours in the cave ; but I 
can not sing, I can only listen. God gives me 
strength to fight and to carry the shield before 
the noblest young master the world has ever 


seen. 


A Summons to the Palace 


67 


“All the world knows that there is no young 
man like the king’s son Jonathan,” David said, 
with a warmth that won the soldier’s heart. 

“Hast thou not heard how he surprised the 
Philistine garrison with a single man to help 
him, and slew twenty men in a little plot of 
ground of not more than half an acre’s breadth?” 
the soldier said, seemingly taking pleasure in 
talking of the subject nearest his heart, with such 
a sympathetic listener as David. 

“My brothers have sent no message these past 
four weeks,” David answered, “and I have not 
heard how the battle goes ; but I think often of 
the dangers that threaten our country, and pray 
daily that the God of Israel may deliver us from 
our enemies.” 

“It was on a day not long since,” the soldier 
began, as horse and ass walked soberly up a long 
hill, giving a better opportunity for conversa- 
tion, “when the noble Jonathan said to his 
armor-bearer, ‘Come and let us go over to the 
Philistines’ garrison, that is on the other side.’ 
We went in secret, and no man, not even the 
king, knew that we were gone. To the north 
was Michmash, and to the south was Gibeah, 
and sharp rocks barred the way to the enemy’s 
garrison. But the noble Jonathan said unto me. 


68 


David, the Boy Harper 


‘It may be that the Lord will work for us, for 
there is no restraint to the Lord, to save by many 
or by few/ 

“So we climbed up by our hands and our 
feet, and the enemy fell before us, and fear and 
trembling seized them so they trampled upon 
each other in their flight. The troops of King 
Saul, seeing the multitudes fleeing before us, 
came to our aid, and the battle raged all day, 
and a great victory over the enemy was won.’’ 

“What said the king when he knew the man- 
ner of his brave son’s attack upon the Philis- 
tines?” David asked, with eager interest. 

“The king is not like other men, or even as 
he was in years past,” the armor-bearer an- 
swered. “A strange madness comes upon him 
at times, and he rages and frets, and is satisfied 
with nothing. God forbid that I should speak 
against my king, the Lord’s anointed, but thou 
must needs know these things, for it is to thy 
soul-calming music that we look for relief when 
the madness is upon him!” 

“God grant I may be able to cheer him!” 
David said, modestly ; “but did not the king re- 
joice over such a glorious victory, wrought by 
the hand of God through the king’s son Jona- 
than?” 


A Summons to the Palace 


69 


“The joy was turned into mourning before 
the day was done,” the armor-bearer answered. 
“After long fighting and weary marching we 
came to a wood, where the honey-bees had filled 
a hollow tree with the purest honey. We were 
faint with hunger, for we had eaten nothing all 
day, and Jonathan took some of the honeycomb 
on the end of a rod and put it to his lips. He 
ate and was satisfied, not knowing that King 
Saul had forbidden the people to eat, on penalty 
of death.” 

“I grieve for the king whose word is law,” 
David said; “but surely there was forgiveness 
in a father’s heart for such a son as Jon- 
athan.” 

“It must be the madness,” the armor-bearer 
answered, sadly, “for the king was pitiless 
against his son, and had it not been for the 
people who cried aloud and said, ‘Shall Jonathan 
die, who hath wrought this great salvation in 
Israel? God forbid, as the Lord liveth there 
shall not one hair of his head fall to the ground, 
for he hath wrought with God this day,’ my 
young master would most certainly have per- 
ished.” 

“Was Jonathan angry at his father because he 
purposed to slay him?” David asked, wishing to 


70 


David, the Boy Harper 


hear more about a young man whose story ap- 
pealed so strongly to him. 

‘‘Jonathan’s heart is love,” his armor-bearer 
answered ; “he loves even his enemies, and spares 
the women and the children. His love for his 
father is wonderful ; he has only pity for his mal- 
ady, and he looks with longing for thy coming, 
for I have often told him about thee, and how 
thy music stirred my heart as thou didst play 
and sing in the cave.” 

“I shall never forget thy kindness, or cease 
to thank the God who sent thee to me, and took 
me out of the sheepfold,” David said, with an 
emotion of which he was not ashamed. 

His brothers had never understood him ; they 
had laughed at his womanish beauty and his 
tender heart; but at last he had found a friend 
who understood and sympathized with him, and 
his heart swelled with joy as he thought of the 
noble character of the king’s son Jonathan, and 
he hoped to be able to serve him and to know 
him, perhaps even to become his friend. 

They had now reached the guard who sur- 
rounded the palace, and David’s eyes were 
watchful that he might learn by observation 
what was fitting for him to do in such strange 
surroundings. 


A Summons to the Palace 


71 


The soldiers of the guard bowed low before 
the armor-bearer, as they opened their ranks for 
the travelers to pass through. 

“Who is this stripling?” an officer asked the 
armor-bearer. 

“The son of Jesse of Bethlehem,” the armor- 
bearer answered. “He is a cunning player, and 
prudent in matters, and the Lord is with him.” 

David colored with pleasure as he looked on 
the stirring scene, and realized that in the armor- 
bearer he had a powerful and faithful friend. 

“Let the lad come into my tent, that he may 
wash the dust of travel from his feet,” the officer 
said, and David soon found himself in the offi- 
cer’s tent, while an Arab boy removed his dusty 
sandals and bathed his feet, by pouring water 
upon them and wiping them with a fine linen 
towel. His cap and woolen tunic were also freed 
from dust, and he was glad to bathe his face 
and hands in clear water, while the Arab boy 
looked in admiration on his bright, rosy face 
and clustering, auburn hair. “He carries the 
sunrise in his face,” the black-browed boy 
thought, with a pang of envy. 

“Didst thou come a long distance?” the Arab 
boy asked him, respectfully, after his task was 
finished. 


72 


David, the Boy Harper 


‘‘We have been but two hours on our jour- 
ney/^ David answered, “and we came slowly, be- 
cause of the heat and the baggage which I bring. 
My father’s house is not many miles away.” 

“My father’s house is three days’ journey dis- 
tant,” the homesick Arab boy said with a sigh. 
“I fear I shall never see it again.” 

“But thou art happy to be of service to the 
king’s officer,” said David, looking round the 
tent, which was comfortable and even luxurious 
in its appointments. 

At that moment the armor-bearer appeared, 
and told David that a servant had borne the 
present of Jesse to the king, and he had gra- 
ciously signified his desire to see the young son 
of Jesse, of whom he had heard such favorable 
reports. 


VII 


DAVID STANDS BEFORE THE KING 
ITH his harp in his hand, David followed 



V V the armor-bearer into the presence of 
King Saul. 

‘‘Do not fear if the king’s look is black upon 
thee,” the armor-bearer said. “His madness is 
upon him to-day, and he scarce knows what he 
does. He may not even know thee when he 
sees thee again, or he may love thee as his own 
soul from the moment his eyes behold thee. 
But fear not, for Jonathan, my master, stands 
at the king’s right hand, and he will protect thee 
if the king is evil-minded towards thee.” 

“I do not fear,” David answered, in a low 
voice. “My God is at my right hand; he will 
not suffer me to be moved. In him do I put my 
trust all the day long.” 

It was a lofty room in which the king was 
seated, and almost bare of furniture, as were the 
houses of the very richest and most noble in 
those days. Swords and spears and suits of 
armor hung on the walls, and on a platform at 


73 


74 David, the Boy Harper 

one end of the room was a carved chair or 
throne, on which the king was seated, while his 
sons and chief officers and attendants stood 
around him. 

What a contrast these two men, Saul and 
David, who now met for the first time, pre- 
sented! King Saul was almost a giant in size; 
even as a young man he had been head and 
shoulders above his brethren in height, and 
added years had given him breadth as well, so 
David understood, in looking at him, what his 
brothers had meant when they had said that the 
king delighted to surround himself with goodly 
men like himself. His face was dark and 
swarthy, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural 
brilliancy; for ever since that day when he was 
thwarted in his insane desire to sacrifice his son 
he had been restless and moody, and his sleep 
had been broken. 

David was in the flush of youth and beauty 
and strength, and his clear, blue eyes looked 
out from a face so brave and yet so tender, so 
respectful and yet so fearless, that the attend- 
ants instinctively bent forward to look upon him. 

The armor-bearer had called King Saul 
‘‘God’s anointed,” and David remembered, as 
he fixed his fearless eyes upon him, that he, too. 


David Stands Before the King 75 


was God’s anointed, and he felt that God had 
sent him to begin his mission by serving and 
solacing the afiflicted king. 

David played a few soft, rippling notes, and 
then began to sing. The song he had re- 
hearsed about the king of glory seemed wholly 
out of place in the king’s present mood, so he 
chose another which was full of cheerful and 
pleasant sentiments, and which he hoped would 
draw the king’s thoughts from gloomy fore- 
bodings to calm trust and confidence in God. 

“The king shall joy in thy strength, O Lord; 
and in thy salvation how greatly shall he rejoice ! 
Thou hast given him his heart’s desire, and hast 
not withholden the request of his lips. For thou 
preventest him with the blessings of goodness: 
thou settest a crown of pure gold on his head. 
He asked life of thee, and thou gavest it him, 
even length of days for ever and ever. His glory 
is great in thy salvation; honor and majesty hast 
thou laid upon him. For thou hast made him 
most blessed for ever; thou hast made him ex- 
ceeding glad with thy countenance. For the 
king trusteth in the Lord, and through the 
mercy of the Most High he shall not be moved. 
Be thou exalted. Lord, in thine own strength; 
so will we sing and praise thy power.” 


76 


David, the Boy Harper 


As David sang, the wild look gradually faded 
from the eyes of Saul, and tears began to glisten 
between his half-closed e5^elids. ‘‘The king 
trusteth in the Lord,’' he murmured, and a smile 
began to play over his worn face. 

“The evil spirit has departed, and the king is 
almost asleep,” the tall armor-bearer whispered 
in David’s ear, as he finished his song. “Did I 
not tell thee that thy singing put my heart to 
sleep like a bird in its nest? Let us away, that 
the king may lie upon his pillows, and find rest 
and health in sleep.” 

“I learned to sing softly, that I might not 
awaken old Jobab, my father’s shepherd,” David 
said, as he followed his friend to the officer’s 
tent, where he had left some of his baggage. 

“That song of thine has done what the phy- 
sicians and the nurses and the king’s musicians 
have tried in vain to do. Asa, the chief phy- 
sician, said, ‘If he can not sleep he will die,’ 
and now, that sleep has overcome him, Jon- 
athan, my master, has gone into his own 
chamber to weep for joy, and to thank God 
for thy coming.” 

“God, indeed, spoke to him through my 
voice, and how greatly am I rejoiced that he is 
better,” David said. “Shall I return now to my 


David Stands Before the King 77 


father’s house, if the king has no further need 
of me?” 

‘‘Wait until I shall have found out the king’s 
good pleasure concerning the matter when he 
awakes from his sleep. Meanwhile there is room 
and a welcome in the officers’ tent for thee, and 
Selim will attend to thy wants. Make thyself at 
ease until I come again.” 

The dark-eyed Arabian boy sprang up in 
great delight as David entered the tent, for that 
mysterious magnetism that surrounded David 
like an invisible atmosphere, and which drew 
people to him, had already exerted its influence 
over the boy, and he would have followed him to 
the world’s end, though he had known him but 
little over an hour. 

“Thou hast returned soon,” the boy said to 
David, as he brought the goatskin case, that 
David might cover the precious harp. 

“The king was weary and desired sleep,” 
David answered, kindly. “I played but one 
song, and that one of the shortest and gentlest 
of all those I know.” 

“Dost thou know many songs?” Selim asked, 
his dark eyes glowing with wonder. “In my 
country the women sing and dance, with slow, 
sweet movements. I wish I could hear again 


78 David, the Boy Harper 

one song of the lily-flower. It speaks of death 
and sadness, and yet it is sweet as honey.” 

“I could sing thee a song that speaks of the 
flower of the field,” David answered. “It has 
not fully come to me yet, but faint echoes I have 
heard, and some day the full, grand song will 
come, for so I learn all my songs and psalms.” 

“It is not meet that the king’s harper should 
waste his songs on me,” the boy answered, 
while a deep tinge of red showed through his 
dusky cheek. “But if thou hast some foolish 
song that the shepherds use in calling their 
sheep, or one thou wouldst deem unworthy for 
the king to hear, it will fill my heart with joy 
like wine to hear it.” 

“The sheep have heard my choicest songs,” 
David answered. “I have a pet lamb at home, 
now almost fully grown; but the greatest song 
of all, about the king of glory, always brought 
him to me as if I had called his name. I will 
sing thee a song of praise that is like my breath 
to me, and which is often on my lips.” 

So, striking the strings, he sang with a full, 
clear voice that rang like a trumpet ; “Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless 
his holy name ! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
forget not all his benefits ! Who forgiveth all 


David Stands Before the King 79 


thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; 
who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who 
crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender 
mercies. Like as a father pitieth his children, 
so the Lord pitieth them that fear him, for he 
knoweth our frame: he remembereth that we 
are dust. As for man, his days are as grass; as 
a flower of the field so he flourisheth. For the 
wind passeth over it and it is gone, and the 
place thereof shall know it no more.” 

The music had grown soft and plaintive, and 
David was just preparing to change the measure 
and to close with a burst of sublime triumph, 
when he suddenly noticed that the Arab boy 
was weeping with great sobs that shook his 
frame and seemed to rend his very heart. 

“Dcf not weep, dear one,” David said, putting 
dowm his harp, and raising the boy up. “For- 
give me if my song wakes sad memories. What 
have I done to make thee weep with such bitter 
sorrow?” 

“It was when thou saidst, ‘Like as a father 
pitieth his children.’ O, where is my father, 
my dear father?” 

After the storm of grief had somewhat sub- 
sided, David drew his story from the reticent 
boy, who had kept his loneliness and homesick- 


8o David, the Boy Harper 

ness in his own bosom until a kind word opened 
the floodgates. 

He had come with his father and two uncles 
from his home in Arabia to the king of Israel’s 
camp, bringing valuable horses for sale to the 
captains of the king’s troops. The horses found 
a ready sale, and the men were hired by the new 
owners to remain and look after the gentle and 
yet spirited animals. 

‘‘One day,” Selim said, “while my father and 
his brothers were exercising the horses, by lead- 
ing them up and down in a field hard by, a troop 
of Philistine soldiers came sweeping over the 
plain on their great war-horses, and seized upon 
the horses, and took my father and my two 
uncles prisoners before I could give the alarm, 
and I saw them go, but could not lift a finger 
to help them.” 

“Has no effort been made to rescue them?” 
David asked, with sincere sympathy. 

“Our noble Prince Jonathan and his trusty 
armor-bearer surprised the Philistine garrison 
one day not many moons ago,” Selim said, sor- 
rowfully, “and they hoped to recover both horses 
and men; but they saw no sign of either, and I 
fear they have killed my poor father.” 

“Perhaps they wanted the horses for their 


David Stands Before the King 8i 


women/’ David said, thoughtfully. ‘'No worse 
fate may have befallen them than a life of cap- 
tivity in some Philistine harem, and God may yet 
restore thy father to thee.” 

“I have felt all alone since they went away, 
except for the kindness of the good armor-bearer 
and the companionship of his Arabian horse, 
Mustapha. My father sold him the horse, and, 
happily, Mustapha was away with his master 
when those thieves and devils came, so he es- 
caped.” 

‘‘But while I am here thou wilt not feel 
alone,” David said, putting his hand kindly on 
the boy’s shoulder. “I, also, am away from 
home, and we will comfort one another.” 

“Thou art too good to me,” the boy said, 
springing up with a brightened face. “I am thy 
servant, and, indeed, I am proud to be servant 
to such a master.” 

It was now almost nightfall, and Selim soon 
set before his guest a refreshing meal, which he 
obtained of the cook who prepared the officers’ 
meals. 

David ate with a good appetite, and as he 
looked about him and saw the comfortable and 
cozy appearance of the tent, he found himself 
wishing that he might remain there instead of 
6 


82 


David, the Boy Harper 


being quartered in the palace. He had lived so 
much in the open air that he felt stifled in 
crowded rooms, and the rough jests of the sol- 
diers were displeasing to him. 

Hardly had this wish framed itself in his mind 
when the captain who owned the tent appeared, 
accompanied by David’s good friend, the armor- 
bearer, who explained that the captain had ob- 
tained a week’s leave of absence to visit his wife 
and children, and that during that time David 
might feel free to occupy the tent, with the Arab 
boy as a servant. 

‘‘The king is still sleeping,” the armor-bearer 
told David, “and all in the palace walk with quiet 
tread, and hush their voices that he may sleep. 
Thou, too, dost need sleep, my sweet singing- 
bird, and if this is not the golden cage I prom- 
ised, be assured the door of the cage will open 
when once the king awakes.” 

“It suits me well, good friend,” David an- 
swered, with a smile. “Yon heap of silken cush- 
ions is a softer bed than the straw in the stone 
manger in the sheepfold at home; yet I have 
slept in comfort without even a bed of straw.” 

“Use all things in the tent with what freedom 
thou wilt. It will please my comrade if thou 
dost,” the armor-bearer said, and bidding David 


David Stands Before the King 83 


a friendly good-night he left him to seek repose 
in sleep. 

The Arab boy slept on a pile of skins, and 
David lay down beside him, listening with pleas- 
ure to the boy’s gentle, even breathing, that 
showed he was asleep. “O God of my fathers, 
I thank thee that thou hast been with me, and 
that thou, through thy servant David, hast com- 
forted the king on his throne, and the humble 
servant in his tent,” was his last waking thought 
as he committed himself in prayer to God for 
the night. 


VIII 


THE KING^S BANQUET 

T he promised week in the tent lengthened 
to four weeks, and still the captain who had 
obtained leave of absence did not return, and 
David was not again summoned to the presence 
of the king. 

David learned later that the captain, on reach- 
ing home, was seized with a lingering illness, 
and he knew by reports which his faithful friend, 
the armor-bearer, brought him, that King Saul 
had awakened from his long and refreshing sleep 
with the weakness and languor of a babe, a nat- 
ural result of the powerful reaction from his 
previous violent and stormy mood. 

However, David was not forgotten. The 
choicest dishes from the king’s table were sent 
each day to the tent, as well as costly presents 
from the king and his son, Jonathan. 

Among the gifts was a wonderful harp with 
golden strings, and an instrument of ten strings 
shaped like a zithern. 

David practiced diligently on these, that he 
84 


The King’s Banquet 


85 


might be able to play upon them when the king 
recovered from his weakness and again called him 
into his presence. The songs of war and triumph 
sounded grandly on the new harp; but the old 
harp responded better to the sweet and gentle 
strains which David had sung to his sheep. 
“The very wood seems to sing,” David said to 
himself, as he lovingly patted the carved sides 
of the harp old Asaph had given him ten years 
before. 

Selim would sit in delighted silence while his 
young master played; for his soul was full of 
music, and after a little time he learned to play 
on the zithern, and to sing the love-songs of his 
native land. 

For exercise, the two boys went for long 
tramps in the fields, or rode on the Arab boy’s 
donkey and David’s wiry little beast, both of 
which animals were swift and sure of foot, as well 
as playful and intelligent. 

David even ventured near the encampment 
of the enemy, in the vain hope of seeing the 
beautiful Arabian horses which the Philistines 
had stolen, and of finding some tidings of Se- 
lim’s father and uncles. 

At last there came a day when the king as- 
sumed his royal robes, and came out from his 


86 David, the Boy Harper 

seclusion with a brighter face and a more hope- 
ful look than he had worn for many months. 

So great was the rejoicing at the king’s im- 
proved health and spirits that it was determined 
to give a royal banquet to the king’s sons and 
counselors, at which time the king’s new harper 
and chief musician, David, the son of Jesse, 
would delight the company with his playing and 
singing. 

A new and richly-embroidered suit of apparel 
was brought to David, that he might appear at 
the banquet in befitting garments as the king’s 
favorite. 

Selim was overjoyed at the honors heaped 
upon his young master, and as he unfolded the 
rich tunic of Oriental embroidery his eyes 
sparkled with delight. 

‘'This pattern is woven only in my valley,” he 
said. “Dost thou not see the tree in the borders 
of the sleeves? That is the tree of life, and those 
scrolls above it are Arabic characters. They 
mean, ‘Life and happiness to the wearer of this 
robe.’ So life and happiness have come to thee, 
good master.” 

“It is happiness to me to have such a wise 
and faithful servant,” David said. “If it were 
not for thy wisdom, life and happiness might 


The King’s Banquet 


87 


have descended upon me, as thou didst fasten 
the robe on my shoulders, and I should have 
known it not.” 

Meanwhile Selim was fastening the jeweled 
clasps that met over the shoulders of the gar- 
ment, and adjusting the gold buckles that held 
the girdle in place. 

“Thou dost look like a prince, my master,” 
he said, when the work was done, and he had 
stood off at a little distance to observe the effect 
of the new garments. 

“I like better my woolen tunic that my 
mother spun and wove from finest lamb’s fleeces, 
and that my mother’s maidens worked with 
blood-red pomegranates,” David said, as he 
looked lovingly at his discarded tunic, which the 
careful Selim was dusting and folding away. 

A portion from the king’s banquet was 
brought to David in his tent, and not until the 
eating and drinking of the royal company was 
finished did David receive the king’s summons 
to appear before him. 

The banqueting hall, into which a servant 
conducted David, was in marked contrast to the 
bare and stately room in which he had first seen 
the king. A slightly raised platform on three 
sides of the room was carpeted with costly tap- 


88 David, the Boy Harper 

estry and strewn with silken pillows. Hangings 
of silk and embroidery separated the main hall 
from the women’s apartments, and quick 
glimpses of bright eyes and pearly teeth were 
seen as the younger women of the household 
yielded to curiosity, and peeped out upon the 
wonderful youth, in his beautiful and becoming 
robe, as he stood with his harp in his hand, and 
awaited the pleasure of the king. 

To show his appreciation of the king’s pres- 
ent, David had chosen a song whose accompani- 
ment could show to best advantage the brilliant 
tone of the new harp; so when the king raised 
his hand as a signal for the music to begin, the 
boy harper struck a few clear, ringing chords on 
his harp, and began to sing: 

clap your hands, all ye people ; shout unto 
God with the voice of triumph. For the Lord 
most high is terrible ; he is a great king over all 
the earth. He shall subdue the people under 
us, and the nations under our feet. He shall 
choose our inheritance for us, the excellency of 
Jacob whom he loved. God is gone up with a 
shout, the Lord with the sound of a trumpet. 
Sing praises to God, sing praises; sing praises 
unto our king, sing praises. For God is the king 
of all the earth ; sing ye praises with understand- 


The King’s Banquet 


89 


ing. God reigneth over the heathen. God sit- 
teth upon the throne of his holiness. The 
princes of the people are gathered together, even 
the people of the God of Abraham : for the 
shields of the earth belong unto God; he is 
greatly exalted.” 

When the song was finished David bowed 
low before the king, and would have left the 
royal presence; but the king’s delight in the 
music was so great that he commanded the 
young harper to be brought to his side, that he 
might learn more about him. 

King Saul was in a gracious mood, and 
though his malady was only stayed in its course, 
yet he seemed more like himself, as he was before 
the evil spirit came upon him, than he had for 
long months, and his servants were correspond- 
ingly happy. 

The king was dressed in robes of rich purple 
and gold, and wore a crown of pure gold on his 
head. There was a kindly light in his eyes, and 
no father could have been more tender than he 
as he laid his hand on the young harper’s sunny 
hair, and said, “Whose son art thou, young 
man?” It was a question he often asked, even 
of those who constantly surrounded him, for he 
was forgetful and abstracted as a result of his 


90 David, the Boy Harper 

malady, and the answer to his question was al- 
ways cheerfully given, no matter how often he 
asked it. 

‘‘I am the son of thy servant Jesse, the Beth- 
lehemite,” David answered, modestly, well 
pleased that he could utter his beloved father’s 
name. 

^'1 will send then to Jesse, thanking him for 
thy good service, and commanding him to lend 
thee to us for a long stay, for in truth thou play- 
est well, and thy words are words of truth and 
righteousness.” 

‘‘Happy am I, O king, to stand before thee, 
and happy is my father’s house to be so honored 
by thy royal bounty,” David said, as a flush of 
pleasure mounted his cheek. 

“I would hear again the song about the king, 
the song that says, ‘The king trusteth in the 
Lord,’ and then thou mayest go again to thy 
tent,” King Saul said, kindly, as he looked with 
pleasure on the boy’s bright, happy face. 

Selim, who had brought the three instruments 
of music, and who was standing half hid by the 
curtains, now sprang forward and replaced the 
beautiful new harp with the carved wood harp 
with which David was most familiar, and the 
notes of the sweet and dreamy song which had 


The King’s Banquet 91 

proved a lullaby to the worn and wearied king 
were again heard, and never had David sung 
so well. 

At the end of the song the king called him 
to his side a second time, and threw his arms 
about him, and wept upon his shoulder. 

“God has not forgotten me,’’ he murmured; 
“he will yet restore unto me the joy of his coun- 
tenance, and I shall greatly rejoice in his good- 
ness.” 

Jonathan, the king’s son, also kissed David, 
and wept for joy, and the armor-bearer, who had 
been the agent of all this happiness, beamed 
with delight. 

When David again returned to the tent with 
the proud and happy Selim, he wore upon his 
neck a rich and heavy chain of gold, and on his 
finger a ring with a priceless stone gleaming like 
fire, the gifts of the grateful king and his son 
Jonathan. 

“This, I fear me, is thy last night in the tent,” 
Selim said, as he assisted his young master to 
remove his gay apparel, and to put on instead 
his own well-loved tunic of white wool. 

“I have begged of the armor-bearer to be- 
seech the king to give me this tent until his serv- 
ant the captain returns,” David .said, “for the 


92 David, the Boy Harper 

king knows well that I am come from the sheep- 
folds, and that I can not breathe in the close air 
of the darkened bedrooms of the palace. If this 
tent is good enough for the king’s chief captain, 
Abner, it is surely too good for me, who am the 
least of my father’s house and of the king’s 
servants.” 

‘‘Promise me only, my master, that where 
thou shalt go I may go also,” the Arab boy 
said, \Vith a troubled look, for he feared that this 
floodtide of royal favor would sweep his young 
master entirely beyond his reach. 

“The grandmother of my father was a woman 
of Moab, and she came with her mother-in-law 
to Bethlehem many years ago,” David said. “I 
will tell thee the words she said when her 
mother-in-law entreated her to go back to her 
people and her gods. ‘Entreat me not to leave 
thee, or to return from following after thee, for 
whither thou goest I will go, and where thou 
lodgest I will lodge : thy people shall be my peo- 
ple, and thy God my God.’ Art thou ready to 
say so much as that for thy new master, whom 
thou hast known but a few days?” 

“I have no one in all the world but thee, good 
master. The king’s captain, Abner, has his own 
servants, and he needs me not. I will follow 


The King’s Banquet 


93 


thee to the end of the world, my beloved mas- 
ter,” and the reticent, impassive boy of the desert 
threw himself at David’s feet in a passion of 
weeping. 

The same kind heart that took pity on the 
poor motherless lamb was beating in David’s 
bosom, and he could not look upon sufifering or 
sorrow without an impulse to help and comfort. 
He raised the weeping boy, as he had done when 
his first outburst of grief over the loss of his 
father had overcome him, and with tender, lov- 
ing words he comforted him as one whom his 
mother comforteth. 

“I will not leave thee orphaned and alone,” 
he said. “When I return to my father’s house I 
will beseech the king to give thee leave to go 
with me, as a mark of his royal favor, and my 
brothers will receive thee as a younger brother, 
and my mother and father will be parents to 
thee until thy father shall be restored to thee, if 
such shall be the good will of God, and God him- 
self will be thy Father and thy King.” 

That night as David lay at peace upon the 
soft skins and pillows of the tent he could not 
sleep. No gloomy specters frightened sleep 
away, as so often happened to the king, but all 
heaven above was singing in his heart. 


94 


David, the Boy Harper 


Earthly favor and glory had come to him in 
overflowing measure. The youth who had en- 
dured so patiently the jibes and contempt of his 
older brothers had now received praise and royal 
favor far in excess of any that had come to them ; 
but no pride or haughtiness found a place in that 
sincere and humble heart. 

‘‘O God, in thee do I put my trust was the 
language of his soul, and the king of his vision 
appeared to him, with arms stretched out and a 
smile of ineffable love upon his face, while David 
seemed to hear him say, ‘‘Peace I leave with 
you, my peace I give unto you.’’ 


IX 


BACK TO THE SHEEPFOLD 

D avid little thought when he promised the 
sorrowful Selim that he would take him 
with him to his father’s house, that the fulfill- 
ment of his promise would come so soon. 

Not five days after the events of the previous 
chapter, Jonathan’s armor-bearer came striding 
into the tent early one morning, while David 
was yet asleep, and, awakening him, with haste 
informed him that the king had given commands 
for him to make immediate preparations to re- 
turn to his father’s home in Bethlehem. 

“Have I in aught offended against the king?’’ 
David asked, remembering how he had sung 
the words, “Put not your trust in princes,” the 
day before, and wondering if he had thereby 
angered the fitful and moody monarch. 

“The king is well pleased with thee, and will 
send thee home to thy father loaded with gifts,” 
the armor-bearer said; “but Abner, the king’s 
chief captain, comes to-day, and the king’s will 
is to march at once against the Philistines, to 


95 


96 


David, the Boy Harper 


drive them from their stronghold, now while 
they are at ease, and utterly to overthrow them. 
We can not longer listen to the songs of peace 
in the palace, now that the king’s health is re- 
stored, and he is eager for the battle.” 

could sing him songs of war, if he would 
but take me with him,” David answered, wist- 
fully; for he felt again the pain and mortifica- 
tion which he had often felt, when his three 
soldier brothers had taunted him with being a 
singer of womanish songs. 

"‘We shall have no settled abiding-place, while 
we pursue the king’s enemies ; for even the king 
dwells in a tent, like one of his common soldiers. 
It is the king’s good pleasure that thou shalt 
return to thy father’s house until such a time 
as the Lord may appoint, when the king returns 
in peace ; and then will he send again for thee,” 
said the armor-bearer, seeing the look of dis- 
appointment on the boy^s face, and wishing to 
comfort him. 

“And what will become of me, good master?” 
Selim cried, kneeling at David’s feet; for he 
feared that in the haste and confusion he would 
be forgotten. 

“The king has given commandment that thou 
shalt take with thee two servants, of whomso- 


Back to the Sheepfold 


97 


ever thou wilt, as well as the two shepherds, 
whom he will send in charge of a goodly flock 
of choice sheep, which the king sends as a pres- 
ent to thy father, Jesse,’’ the armor-bearer said 
to the astonished David. 

^‘The presents of the king and Jonathan to 
thee are also thine to take with thee, and beasts 
of burden will be provided to carry all these 
things to thy father’s door.” 

^‘The king overwhelms me with his good- 
ness,” David said, with tears in his eyes, ‘^and 
thou, my first, best friend, art most dear to my 
heart. I would that I could go with the king’s 
servants to fight against the enemies of the 
Lord. Is there not some humble duty I could 
perform for thee and for thine honored master. 
Prince Jonathan, that thou mightest request the 
king to take me with thee to the battle?” 

‘‘That time is surely coming, my lad, when 
thou shalt fight against the king’s enemies; for 
no such brave heart as thine ever beats in vain. 
But thou knowest not the arts of war, and thou 
art yet young and tender of years, and that 
golden head would ache with the weight of a 
helmet. Be content to abide in peace in thy 
father’s house, and to tend the sheep that the 
king sends with thee; but remember, my boy, 
7 


98 


David, the Boy Harper 


as I promised thee before, that thou shouldest 
see my face again, so I promise thee now that 
I will certainly bring to the king's remembrance 
his promise concerning thee." As he said these 
words, the gentle-hearted armor-bearer laid his 
hand lovingly on David's bowed head, and the 
lad, whose heart always responded to the touch 
of love, was cheered and comforted. 

‘'My brothers threw the spear and wielded 
the sword daily for the space of a year before 
they entered the army of the king," David said, 
after a little pause, “and I will sell this golden 
chain and buy me arms, that I may learn to 
use them, if so be the king will give me leave." 

“Take my sword, I pray thee," the generous 
armor-bearer said, as he hastily unbuckled it 
from his side and handed it to David. “Jona- 
than, my master, has many more, and will give 
me as many as I wish. With this sword I slew 
the Philistines when I followed my master up 
the steep crag, and slew after him. Do not 
hesitate to take it, my David; for I give it to 
one who is worthy to wear it, and to one I love 
as my own soul." 

David bowed his head upon the hands that 
held the sword, and bathed them with his tears, 
and covered them with kisses. 


Back to the Sheepfold 


99 


The sound of voices at the door of the tent 
proclaimed the coming of the king's servants 
with breakfast, which the willing Selim made 
haste to set in order, in the hope that the armor- 
bearer would remain and partake of the meal. 
But many duties claimed his attention, and he 
took a hasty leave, after telling David that all 
would be in readiness within two hours for his 
departure to his home in Bethlehem. 

There was much to be done. The tent must 
be put in order, the swords and spears of the 
chief captain, Abner, who was now recovered 
from his illness and was on his way to the pal- 
ace to consult with the king, must be polished 
to mirror-like brightness ; the instruments of 
music must be carefully packed and swathed 
in coverings, that the rough motion of the pack 
animals might not injure them; and the costly 
garments and jewels, together with the precious 
sword, which David would not trust out of his 
own hands, must all be made ready for the 
journey. 

Selim tried in vain to restrain his young 
master from taking any active part in the work 
of preparation; but David was far too eager 
and excited to sit idly by, so both boys worked 
with a will, and everything was ready when 

LofC. 


loo David, the Boy Harper 

the animals stood at the door, prepared for the 
journey. 

Only a few short weeks ago David had come 
humbly into the palace-grounds, an unknown 
and poor young man, bringing a meager gift 
from his father, whose fortunes had greatly suf- 
fered on account of the war. 

Now he was about to set out for his home, 
with servants and cattle and jewels, like a young 
prince, and leaving behind him warm and true 
friends, whom he had won by his sweet spirit 
and kind heart. 

A guard of soldiers on horseback led the way, 
followed by David and Selim, each on his own 
beast. Behind these came the pack animals, 
each in charge of a driver, and the large flock 
of sheep, led by two of the king’s most trusty 
shepherds. 

The armor-bearer had selected for the other 
servant who was to accompany David, besides 
Selim, a young man who had been brought 
up with Jonathan and his brothers, and who had 
been a servant of Saul from his infancy, hav- 
ing been born in Saul’s house, as Jobab had 
been in the house of Jesse. 

The name of the young man was Ziba, and 
he was skillful in the use and care of arms and 


Back to the Sheepfold loi 

familiar with all the arts of war, having been 
all his life in the company of warlike men. 

Ziba proved a very entertaining companion, 
as he possessed a fund of interesting stories of 
great men and events. 

‘‘It will be but dull for thee in our little town, 
I fear,’’ David said to Ziba, as they journeyed 
on their leisurely way. 

“I do not fear it,” Ziba answered. “My mas- 
ter Jonathan and his good armor-bearer have 
so often talked of thee that I feel that already 
I know thee and thy good father, and even thy 
shepherd life in the cave on the hillside is known 
to me.” 

“I knew not that the noble Prince Jonathan 
cared to hear of me or of my father’s house,” 
David said, flushing with pleasure. “I thought 
that his heart was so full of love for the king 
and of the affairs of the kingdom that he could 
scarce find time or thought for a stranger in 
his father’s court, as I have been. But I have 
loved to look upon his face as he stood beside 
the king, and to watch him from a distance, 
as he goes out each day to shoot with arrows.” 

“My master Jonathan has indeed been busy 
with the affairs of state since thou earnest to 
the palace,” Ziba said. “He has shielded his 


102 


David, the Boy Harper 


father from every care, and has taken upon him- 
self such a burden of responsibility that he has 
hardly taken time to eat or sleep. But from a 
child I have been a servant in his father’s house, 
and have known the going out and the coming 
in of the king’s sons ; and Ishui and Melchi-shua 
are brave men, but Jonathan is a prince among 
men, brave as a lion, tender as a woman, lov- 
ing as a brother.” 

These words thrilled David’s heart with joy; 
for a great love for Jonathan had sprung up in 
his heart, and one reason of his sorrow and re- 
gret when he first received the king’s message 
bidding him to return to his father’s house was 
that he could no longer be near the beloved 
prince. 

The cavalcade had now reached the steep 
ascent which led up into the town of Bethlehem, 
and the guard of soldiers fell back, allowing 
David to lead the way to his father’s door. The 
loungers about the gate opened their eyes in 
surprise and terror as they saw the mounted 
guard, and not until they recognized the son 
of Jesse in the midst of the men were their fears 
set at rest. 

There had been no time or opportunity to 
send a ’message home since the morning David 


Back to the Sheepfold 103 

had ridden away, and Jesse was overjoyed to 
see his youngest son again. 

“How fares it with the king, my boy?” Jesse 
said, as he helped his son to alight. “And what 
means this great company and the flock of sheep 
I see? Does the king desire pasturage for his 
flocks at my hands?” 

“He sends thee a present, my father,” Da- 
vid hastened to answer. “The shepherds also 
are his gift to thee; and these two servants of 
the king, Ziba, and my good Selim here, has 
he sent with me to find a home in thy house 
till such a time as it shall be the king’s good 
pleasure to send for us again.” 

“Welcome, good servants of the king!” 
Jesse said, as he spread forth his hands in token 
that all he had was theirs. 

“Come into my humble home, that thou 
mayest refresh thyself, and my servants will 
care for thy beasts and thy baggage.” 

This invitation was gladly accepted by all 
except the mounted guard of soldiers, who had 
received strict orders not to tarry so much as 
to eat, but to hasten back to the palace to take 
the places left vacant by those who were ordered 
to the front, and to guard the palace from dan- 
ger while the king was away. The sheep came 


104 David, the Boy Harper 

crowding into the spacious yard in front of the 
house until it was filled and overflowing, and 
still they came, of a choicer breed than any 
that Jesse had ever possessed, and with great 
fleeces of wool just ready to be clipped. The 
good man could scarcely believe his eyes as he 
looked upon them and realized that they were 
all his. Now he could sell their wool and buy 
many needful things, and be freed from the load 
of anxiety which had lain heavily upon him. 
He gave directions to his fourth son, who was 
chief overseer over his father’s flocks, to find 
a place for the new flock of sheep, and to pre- 
pare food to set before the shepherds, and to 
appoint them their duties. 

The meal was soon prepared and spread in 
the open court of the house; for the king had 
sent a large hamper of food on one of the 
pack animals, and this, with butter and milk 
and fruit, with honey, made up a refreshing 
repast. 

David was overjoyed to be at home again. 
He followed every movement of his mother 
with loving glances, and he longed for the time 
when he might lie down with his head in her 
lap, and tell her of all the wonderful experiences 
at the court of the king, which were already 


Back to the Sheepfold 105 

beginning to seem dim and distant, like places 
seen in a dream. 

Both father and mother were greatly re- 
joiced to learn that the king’s health was re- 
stored, and that he had set out to battle against 
the wicked Philistines; but the loving mother 
heart of Nahash sank as she remembered that 
her three sons would be in the thick of the 
fight, and perhaps would be slain. 


X 


SELIM FINDS A HOME 

T he days that followed were full of delight 
to David and his two companions. 

The climbed the hill and surprised old Jo- 
bab and his brothers as they watched their 
sheep. David was glad to be able to carry some 
fresh food to his old friend, as he had so often 
done before; and as he came singing up the 
path, Jobab knew the voice, and hurried to meet 
him. The pet lamb, now fully grown, came 
running along the path after the keeper, and 
David could hardly believe that this was his 
poor, little, shrinking, trembling pet, whose 
frightened heart had shaken its whole body with 
its beating on the day when he had rescued it 
from the jaws of the lion. He did not lift the 
lamb to his shoulder, but he patted its head 
and spoke kindly to it as it trotted on beside 
him. 

“I told thee I would surely come back, and 
here I am,” David said, as the old shepherd 
leaned upon his shoulder as they walked along 
together. 

106 


Selim Finds a Home 


107 


“But I misdoubt me if thou wilt stay,” Jobab 
answered. “The eagle that has tried his wings 
will not long abide in the nest; but it gladdens 
my eyes and my heart to see thee again.” 

Ziba and Selim now came up, and were in- 
troduced to the shepherds, and amused them- 
selves with exploring the cave and the thicket 
where David had killed the lion, while David 
sat beside old Jobab and told him the wonder- 
ful story of his life at the court of King Saul. 

None of it seemed of absorbing interest to 
the old man until David reached that part of 
the story where the king had bestowed rich 
gifts upon him, and had sent a very large flock 
of sheep in charge of two shepherds to Jesse 
as a mark of royal favor. 

“More than ten score choice sheep, besides 
lambs and yearlings?” Jobab said, his eyes 
kindling with delight. “I must see them with 
my own eyes, and if thy father wills, I will leave 
thee here with my brothers, and will myself 
take charge of the new flock, with the strange 
shepherds to help me. They may know the 
sheep, but they do not know the pasturage, and 
they do not know the dangers of wild beasts 
and of thieving bands of soldiers.” 

It was soon arranged as old Jobab wished. 


io8 David, the Boy Harper 

He was established in a comfortable shepherd’s 
hut on the broad pastures surrounding the 
homestead, and he grew almost young again 
in his delight at his master’s good fortune. 

Ziba soon tired of the monotony of country 
life, and begged permission to be allowed to 
make regular trips to the army, to carry pro- 
visions to Jesse’s three sons, and to bring back 
their greetings to their father. 

But Selim was never happier than now, as 
he felt the kindly atmosphere of home life about 
him. 

He became the errand boy, making the daily 
trips between the homestead and the cave on 
the hillside, as David had formerly done, and 
running with willing feet to the well by the 
gate for the water that his young master loved. 

David took up his old life as shepherd, with 
his staff in his hand, and no shadow of regret, 
as he thought of the few weeks in the palace, 
ever dimmed the brightness of his spirit or 
clouded the joy of his heart. 

He prayed often for the king and Jonathan 
and the good armor-bearer, and for his three 
brothers, all of whom were daily exposed to 
danger and to death, and he practiced diligently 
with the sword which the armor-bearer had 


Selim Finds a Home 


109 


given him, and with his sling and bows and ar- 
rows. ‘‘Who knows,’’ he thought, “at what 
hour my Lord may have need of me?” 

One morning, as Selim was waiting while 
David’s mother filled the basket he had brought 
with fresh food for his young master and the 
two shepherds at the cave, she asked him kindly 
if he liked his new home and new life in quiet 
Bethlehem. 

He was by nature shy and reserved, and had 
never talked with the gentle woman, except to 
give messages or answer questions; but a sud- 
den longing came over him, to win from her 
one loving look, like those which she so often 
gave to David. 

“I have never known what a home meant 
until I reached thy door, honored lady,” he 
said, while the tears stood in his eyes. “My 
mother died while I was but a babe, and my 
father lived a wild and roving life, leaving me 
with my mother’s kindred, who loved me not. 
But my father loved me, and always when he 
came, riding like the wind on his beautiful 
Arab steed, I cried for very joy to see him 
again. 

“At last word came to our valley that the 
hosts of Israel were set in battle array against 


no David, the Boy Harper 

their enemies, and that the captains and princes, 
though they might not use horses in the bat- 
tle, lest their trust should be in the strength of 
the horse rather than in their God, yet were de- 
sirous of fine horses, on which to ride for health 
and for pleasure. My father and his brothers 
gathered together a number of valuable horses, 
and as I could ride like a man, they took me 
with them the long journey to the camp of 
the king of Israel. 

‘‘Abner, the chief captain, received us kindly 
and helped my father in the sale of his horses. 
My father had a full purse of gold, and might 
have returned to our valley in peace, but he 
had sold his mare, his beautiful Zuleika, to the 
chief captain himself, as no other suited the 
proud captain, and my father loved Zuleika 
next to me. So we stayed in the camp, and 
my father and uncles became grooms to care 
for Zuleika and Mustapha and the rest of the 
horses that came from our valley. 

“I also served the chief captain, and slept 
in his tent. 

“One day I followed my father and my uncles 
to a field hard by, where the horses often walked 
for exercise. The blankets of the horses were 
upon them, that they might not feel the cold, 


Selim Finds a Home 


III 


and for this reason we were powerless when 
the enemy came.” 

“Did the fierce Philistines indeed come upon 
thee unawares?” the kind-hearted Nahash asked, 
with a lively sympathy that from the first had 
appealed to the lonely boy, who felt the same 
magnetic influence in her that had drawn him 
to open his heart to David. 

“They came like a black thundercloud, and 
their helmets gleamed like lightning,” the boy 
said, sadly. “The horses they rode were great 
monsters, and the riders were like giants, and 
they seized the bridles of the horses from my 
father’s hands and the hands of his brothers, 
and, throwing ropes about my father’s body, 
they tied him on his horse’s back, and all were 
led away but poor Selim, and I crouched among 
the bushes, half dead with fright.” 

“Poor boy! I do not wonder thou dost 
weep,” Nahash said, wiping his tears away from 
his eyes with her own soft linen kerchief. “My 
sons are also at the mercy of those cruel and 
vindictive enemies of the God of Israel, but thou 
shalt never want a home, now thou hast found 
one with us, and my David will be like an elder 
brother to thee.” 

“He has indeed been mother and father and 


II2 


David, the Boy Harper 


brother to me since the day he came to me 
like an angel of God, as I sat, sad and deso- 
late, in the chief captain’s tent,” Selim said, 
with a grateful look at the motherly woman, 
who was never so happy as when hearing the 
praises of her beloved son David. 

The honey-cakes, for whose baking Selim 
had waited, were now done, and without wait- 
ing to eat the one which was given to him, he 
bounded away with swift steps and a light heart, 
feeling at last the rest and peace to which he 
had so long been a stranger. 

Selim soon learned to care for the sheep, and 
became so skillful that David sometimes left 
him for hours together in charge of the flock, 
while he visited old Jobab in his shepherd’s hut, 
and told him stories of the king’s flocks and 
herds, and of Doeg, the chief herdsman, and 
his exploits with raiding Philistines. 

Abner was a small man in Jobab’s eyes com- 
pared with Doeg, and all the troops of King 
Saul were as nothing in comparison with the 
king’s abundant flocks and herds of cattle. 

‘‘The two shepherds who came with the sheep 
are good lads,” Jobab said, graciously, after a 
pause. “They keep the sheep together, and 
they are tender of them after the shearing. This 


Selim Finds a Home 


113 

Doeg must be a man well worth knowing, 
though thou sayest he is still a young man. It 
takes courage, they say, to make a soldier, but 
it takes courage and wit too to make a shep- 
herd.’’ 

David always laughed at the old shepherd’s 
jokes, and this was one secret of the high favor 
in which David was held by Jobab. 

Ithri and Merari, the brothers of Jobab, 
never became shepherds in the true sense of the 
word. They wove their baskets, and sat in the 
sun, or in cold weather crouched in the cave, 
but their hearts were in the sunny vineyards; 
and, after Selim became accustomed to the du- 
ties of a shepherd, they were again permitted 
to take up their abode in the watch-tower of 
their beloved winepress, where they were again 
happy and contented. The flock of sheep on 
the hillside had not increased, but instead had 
steadily diminished by accident and necessary 
use as food for Jesse’s numerous family and 
retainers, so that now there was but a handful, 
less than a fourth of the number of the new 
flock that had arrived so opportunely. 

David and Selim could easily care for these 
few sheep in the wilderness; for now that the 
Philistines had left their garrison and gone into 
8 


1 14 David, the Boy Harper 

the fight, the wild beasts no longer troubled 
the young shepherds. 

Selim was never tired of hearing the story 
of the lion and the bear, and he almost wished 
that some wild beast would come, that he 
might slay it as David had done; for he was 
growing strong and courageous now that he 
felt the atmosphere of love and confidence that 
surrounded him, and was inspired by the daily 
companionship of one with such a brave, fear- 
less heart as that which beat in David’s breast. 

The beautiful new harp which King Saul 
had given David was kept carefully at home, 
for fear the dampness of the cave might tarnish 
its gilded frame and strings of gold; but the 
old harp hung in its accustomed place near the 
mouth of the cave, and many a sweet song came 
to David in the silent watches of the night, when 
all the world lay asleep. 

His songs never wakened the duller ears of 
Jobab in days gone by, but the faintest whis- 
per always startled Selim from his slumbers, 
and the Arab boy would listen with delighted 
attention while David sang of the silent stars, 
the springing flowers, and the green pastures 
and still waters, where the sheep loved to rest 
at noontide. 


Selim Finds a Home 


115 


Selim learned many of these songs by heart, 
and soon became very skillful in playing ac- 
companiments on the zithern, which David gave 
up to him almost entirely. 

Selim’s voice was a boy’s pure, high soprano, 
and it formed a pleasing contrast to David’s 
rich, strong voice, whose compass could take 
in the highest as well as the lowest notes with 
perfect ease. 

One song Selim loved better than any of the 
others. It seemed such a true picture of the 
quiet little stream from which the sheep drank, 
and of the green meadows that stretched on 
either side of the stream, where the sheep often 
rested at noon. 

When David was gone, he sang it by him- 
self, and at last was delighted to find that he 
could remember it all. 

“The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not 
want. He maketh me to lie down in green 
pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters; 
he restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the 
paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, 
though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou 
art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they com- 
fort me. Thou preparest a table before me in 


ii6 David, the Boy Harper 

the presence of my enemies; thou anointest my 
head with oil, my cup runneth over. Surely 
goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days 
of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the 
Lord forever.’’ 

‘‘This home is the house of the Lord to me,” 
the grateful boy thought, “and I will dwell here 
forever.” 

Little by little the spiritual meaning dawned 
upon him, as the influence of David’s life of 
companionship with God showed him what it 
meant to be a child of the Most High. He 
learned to pray as David prayed, and daily he 
prayed for his father, whom he so dearly loved, 
but whose fate was never known to him, and 
who probably died a prisoner, or else was speed- 
ily and mercifully put to death by his captors. 

But the Arab boy never again felt the weight 
of loneliness and homesickness that weighed him 
down when we first met him ; for he had found 
a home and a friend who was more to him than 
a brother. 


XI 


AMASA BRINGS NEWS FROM THE ARMY 
HE rainy season came on and passed, and 



1 the spring flowers were beginning to ap- 
pear along the banks of the water-courses, 
when, suddenly, one afternoon, as the shadows 
of the setting sun began to fall on the hills, a 
messenger came hurrying up the steep path. 

It was the same messenger who twice be- 
fore had summoned David to some important 
event in his life; and his message proved that 
a third important summons had come. 

Amasa, the only son of David’s sister Abi- 
gail, had stopped at the home of Jesse for the 
night, before returning again to the army, where 
he shared his father’s tent and made himself 
useful as messenger between the camp of Is- 
rael and his home; for thus was news carried 
in those early days. 

“I must leave thee, my good Selim,” David 
said, as the Arab boy hastened to assist his young 
master in making a few necessary preparations to 
depart. “It may be that my father will send me 


ii8 David, the Boy Harper 

with Amasa to the army, with fresh food for my 
brothers; for Ziba delays his coming, and my 
father’s heart is filled with anxiety, lest evil be- 
fall my brothers.” 

“Have no fear for me, dear master,” Selim 
said, his dark eyes glowing with love and grati- 
tude. “I will keep the sheep until thou shalt 
come again, and blessed be God, who has given 
me something to do for those who have done 
so much for me !” 

In his hurried preparations David left his 
harp in its accustomed place in the cave; but 
he carried his trusty staff in his hand and his 
leathern string in the wallet that was slung 
about his neck. 

When David reached home, he found his 
nephew Amasa sitting in a seat of honor, and 
enjoying all the importance of a bearer of inter- 
esting news. He brought no ill tidings of the 
absent sons; for both they and his father had 
been in perfect health when he had left them 
three days before. 

Ziba’s. prolonged absence he explained by 
saying that Eliab needed the young man to 
polish his arms and armor, and begged his fa- 
ther to lend him to him for that purpose. 

But the news he brought was nevertheless 


News from the Army 119 

alarming and sufficient to throw the quiet house- 
hold into a fever of excitement and anxiety. 

‘‘How long, didst thou say, has it been since 
the Philistine champion began defying the ar- 
mies of the living God?'’ Jesse asked, when 
Amasa paused in his recital long enough to per- 
mit his grandfather to speak. 

“For more than thirty days he has appeared 
daily at morning and at evening. He comes 
striding down the hill on the other side of the 
valley of Elah, where our soldiers are encamped. 
A single armor-bearer holds a mighty shield 
before him, and these are the words he says: 
‘I defy the armies of Israel this day; give me 
a man that we may fight together.' " 

“And is no one ready to go against this 
boaster and take away the reproach of the ar- 
mies of Israel?" David said, his eyes flashing 
and his hand grasping his staff as if it were a 
sword. 

“The king's son, Jonathan, would go, but 
the people restrain him; for they say, if he is 
slain, nothing remains but loss and defeat for 
the armies of Israel, for Jonathan is the people's 
idol of all the king's sons," said Amasa, who 
had listened to the gossip of the camp, and 
told it with as much assurance as though he 


120 


David, the Boy Harper 


had been admitted into the secrets of the king’s 
council chamber. 

wonder that Eliab could contain himself 
and listen to such words without offering him- 
self to the king,” Jesse said, remembering the 
wild rushes against an imaginary enemy that 
Eliab had delighted to make in his training days 
before going into the army. 

‘If you should once see this Goliath of Gath, 
you would not wonder,” said Amasa. “He is 
taller by head and shoulders than the king, and 
his great head is covered with thick locks, like 
eagles’ feathers. His shoulders are broad as an 
ox-yoke, and his legs are like the trunks of 
great trees, while his arms are like the wide- 
spreading branches. 

“He has a helmet of brass upon his head, 
and he wears a coat of mail. His legs are cov- 
ered with greaves of brass, and a target of brass 
covers his shoulders. The staff of his spear is 
like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head 
weighs six hundred shekels of iron.” 

All these particulars Amasa had rehearsed 
so often to his admiring mother and friends at 
home that he knew them by heart and repeated 
them without stopping for breath; for next to 
the honor of fighting the giant, Amasa counted 


News from the Army 121 

it a triumph to have seen him and to know so 
much about him. 

“And hast thou really seen him?” David 
asked, knowing the boastful nature of his young 
nephew. 

“Twice have I seen him, when my father 
knew it not, but thought me safe in the tent,” 
said Amasa, with a shake of the head at his 
own cleverness in outwitting his father. Then 
he continued : 

“I rode on my mule to the side of the hill 
over against the valley, and from there I could 
see him, as he came forth at evening and sent 
out his challenge in a voice like hail and thun- 
der together. I could see the king’s bravest 
soldiers fall back and flee in terror at his words ; 
for they do not think the giant is a man but a 
god or a spirit of evil, and the soldiers say that 
a spear would spring back from the scales that 
cover him like an armor, and that no mortal 
man can hope to overcome him.” As Amasa 
said these words, he looked with pleasure on 
his grandmother’s wide eyes and pale cheeks; 
for in them he saw a tribute to his power as a 
story-teller. 

“It is well that our sons do not rashly go 
up against this evil being,” Nahash said, with 


122 David, the Boy Harper 

a shudder; “for why should they throw away 
their lives?” 

Jesse said nothing; for he was a man of few 
words ; but David saw in his father’s eye a gleam 
of fire, and felt that his father chafed in spirit, 
as he did in his own soul, that an uncircum- 
cised Philistine should dare to mock and jeer 
at the army of the living God, and that no one 
should be found ready, even at the risk of his 
life, to fight with him and stop his impious 
boasting. 

“Did thy father send thee to thy home be- 
cause of the danger?” Jesse asked, wishing to 
change the subject. 

“There was no danger in the camp,” Amasa 
hastened to say. “There will be no active fight- 
ing until the forty days are fulfilled, in which 
the champion makes this challenge. Every day 
he cries out and says: ‘Why are ye come out 
to set your battle in array? Choose you a man 
for you and let him come down to me. If he 
be able to fight with me and to kill me, then 
will we be your servants ; but if I prevail against 
him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants 
and serve us.” 

“And if no man is found, will we indeed be- 
come the servants of the dogs of Philistines?” 


News from the Army 123 

Jesse asked in trembling tones, not crediting all 
that the boastful youth had said, but fearing 
that a crisis had indeed come in the affairs of 
the kingdom. 

“So it seems,” Amasa answered; “for the 
king is again overcome with melancholy, and 
all men’s hearts fail them for fear.” 

“When will the forty days be accomplished?*’ 
David asked, as he looked out into the court- 
yard, where the shadows of evening already lay 
heavily, and wished for the morrow, that he 
might ride swiftly to the scenes of military strife 
and danger. 

“To-morrow is the day which decides our 
fate,” Amasa said, “and for that reason I -would 
not tarry longer at home, though my mother 
wept at my coming. But, unknown to my fa- 
ther, I will ride to the hill and listen to the gi- 
ant’s last challenge, and after that will I carry 
the food and garments to my father’s tent.” 

“Thy brothers will have need of food, my 
son,” said Jesse, looking kindly at David. “I 
will send them ten loaves of bread and some 
freshly-parched corn, which they love, and to 
the captain of their thousand will I send ten 
cheeses of curded milk; for the army rations 
are but poor at best, and they will need in these 


124 


David, the Boy Harper 


trying times the strength that comes from nour- 
ishing food/^ 

“I will go for thee, my father,’’ David hast- 
ened to say. ‘‘Selim is faithful, and will keep 
the sheep until I come again with good news 
from my brothers, if God wills it so.” 

“I will send the older of the two shepherds 
who came from the king to stay with the lad,” 
said Jesse; “for he is not used to a night alone 
among the hills.” 

Taking a swinging lantern, which gave a 
fitful, uncertain light, the old man went out, 
and David, who knew that it would be necessary 
to start very early in the morning, threw him- 
self down on his bed, which was covered with 
the skin of the lion he had slain more than two 
years before, and composed himself for sleep. 
He could still hear the talkative Amasa rehears- 
ing his thrilling stories to David’s brothers, who 
had come in from the oversight of the farm, and 
who were listening with eager attention to every 
scrap of news that concerned the army. 

Amasa was saying that, if he were only a 
few years older, and was not the only son and 
hope of his father and mother, he would risk 
his precious life in defense of the king’s honor. 
David could not help smiling to himself; for 


News from the Army 


125 


he knew that a boaster is always a coward, and 
he knew that his nephew would always look out 
for his own safety. 

‘^But this mighty giant is also a boaster, and 
therefore a coward,’’ David reasoned. ‘‘Even 
if he is a devil, our God is able to overthrow 
him,” David thought; “but he is but a man, 
and would God I might bring to the king’s ears 
the word which should tell him that one 
has been found who is ready, in the strength 
of the Lord, to go against this mighty boaster, 
and to lay him in the dust.” 

No harp was at hand to soothe the restless 
mood that kept young David awake, and he 
could not sing, with sleeping forms within the 
sound of his voice; but the music came in a 
strong, surging tide, such as he had not felt 
for months, and he whispered and murmured 
it in his heart until at last he was strengthened 
and comforted. 

He seemed to see the opposing hosts on the 
opposite sides of the valley of Elah. The enemy 
were bold and defiant, and a note of triumph 
rang in the words of scorn and derision which 
they shouted across the valley. He saw in vision 
the fleeing troops of King Saul; he saw the 
moody king, as he had seen him, with his 


126 David, the Boy Harper 

head sunk in his hands, as he muttered to 
himself. 

David listened to these mutterings, and heard 
the king say, “I am sore distressed; for the 
Philistines make war against me, and God is 
departed from me, and answereth me no more.’’ 

“O king,” David tried to whisper in his ear, 
“remember the day when out of sorrow came 
joy to thee as thou saidst, ‘The king trusteth 
in the Lord.’ ” 

But the king would not listen, and the day 
was almost lost, when David stretched out his 
arms and whispered, “Here am I, Lord; 
send me.” 

Then a sudden rush of wings was all about 
him, and he heard the voice of a multitude 
singing: “O clap your hands, all ye people; 
shout unto God with the voice of triumph; for 
the Lord Most High is terrible; he is a great 
King over all the earth. He shall subdue the 
people under us, and the nations under our feet. 
He shall choose our inheritance for us, the ex- 
cellency of Jacob, whom he loved. God is gone 
up with a shout, the Lord with the sound 
of a trumpet. Sing praises to God, sing 
praises! Sing praises unto our King! Sing 
praises; for God is the King of all the earth. 


News from the Army 127 

Sing ye praises with understanding. God reign- 
eth over the heathen. God sitteth upon the 
throne of his holiness. The princes of the people 
are gathered together, even the people of the 
God of Abraham; for the shields of the earth 
belong unto God. He is greatly exalted.” 

The tumult in David’s breast was calmed; 
the fear of defeat and disaster which his neph- 
ew’s words had for a moment awakened was 
stilled ; for the face of the One he had seen long 
ago in vision appeared before him with a light 
of glory and victory upon it, and a strength 
came upon him as he looked and worshiped. 

“Open thou my way, O King !” was David’s 
prayer; for he knew that the difficulties in the 
way before he could be accepted as the king’s 
champion, to appear before Goliath, were very 
great; but his faith was greater, and he slept 
like a child in its mother’s arms. 


XII 


DAVID KILLS GOLIATH 

V ERY early in the morning, in the first faint 
twilight that comes before the opening 
day, David and Amasa were on their way to 
the valley of Elah, where the opposing armies 
of Israel and Philistia were encamped in full 
view of each other. 

Both young men were eager to reach the 
scene of action before the Philistine champion 
made his morning challenge, and for this reason 
urged they their animals into a sharp trot that 
made talking impossible. 

Before the encampment was reached, Amasa 
turned his mule’s steps into a steep path which 
led to his point of vantage, from which he had 
already watched the champion, and from a safe 
distance viewed the glittering ranks of the 
enemy. He knew if he accompanied David, he 
would be seen by his father, who shared the 
tent with Eliab, and perhaps would not find 
it easy to slip away and carry out his own plans. 
David was not sorry to be freed from his 

128 


David Kills Goliath 


129 


nephew’s company; for he detested deceit and 
double-dealing, and hardly knew whether most 
to pity or to blame the spoiled boy, who thought 
the world was created for his particular use and 
pleasure. 

David soon found the captain of his bro- 
thers’ company, and gave him the present 
which he had brought from home, together with 
a message of thanks and compliment from 
Jesse for the captain’s care of his three soldier 
sons. 

Leaving his beast in the care of the keeper 
of the baggage, David ran on foot into the camp, 
and soon found his brothers’ tent. Eliab was 
not overpleased to see his youngest brother; 
for in his eyes David was still a boy, though to 
others he appeared what he was — a strong, self- 
reliant young man. 

However, Eliab said nothing of his displeas- 
ure until a little later, when the troops of King 
Saul were marshaled into orderly ranks to 
march against the enemy and to listen to the 
challenge of Goliath. 

Then David began to show an undue interest 
in affairs which the lordly Eliab thought entirely 
above him and out of his line. 

Eliab’s comrades took a lively interest in the 
9 


130 David, the Boy Harper 

bright young man, and began to ask him if he 
had seen the Philistine champion; for that was 
the absorbing topic of conversation in camp and 
court at that time. 

And David said: “What shall be done to 
the man that killeth this Philistine and taketh 
away the reproach from Israel? For who is 
this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should 
defy the armies of the living God?'' 

Before the men could answer, the wrath of 
Eliab burst forth. 

“Why earnest thou down hither?" he said, 
“and with whom hast thou left those few sheep 
in the wilderness? I know thy pride and the 
naughtiness of thine heart; for thou art come 
down that thou mightest see the battle." 

Eliab’s comrades had listened to his outbreaks 
of temper before, and one such outbreak against 
his body servant had so exasperated the young 
man that he had deserted from the army, for 
which reason Eliab had been obliged to press 
Ziba into his service. 

But David was king of himself. He showed 
no trace of anger, but answered: “What have 
I now done? Is there not a cause?" and he 
pointed to where the boasting champion stood, 
defying the armies of Israel. Eliab felt the im- 


David Kills Goliath 


13X 

plied rebuke, especially as the other soldiers 
laughed at the man who was counted a fair- 
weather hero and the coxcomb of the company. 

He turned haughtily away, as if such a strip- 
ling’s opinion was not worthy of notice; but the 
soldiers who surrounded David were of a very 
different opinion. 

It was refreshing to them to see a man who 
dared to defy the mighty champion, and the 
news quickly spread that a young man was 
found who was willing to fight with the giant. 

Saul was almost at his wits’ end; for a lucid 
interval had followed his period of madness, and 
he realized the great danger that threatened his 
kingdom. 

“Let the young man be brought before me,” 
was his command; and in a few minutes David, 
in his plain shepherd dress, and carrying his 
staff in his hand, appeared before him. The 
king’s memory was bad, and he did not recog- 
nize the youth who, decked in glittering robes, 
and with uncovered locks of golden brown, had 
last stood in his presence. 

The face of the king was so sad and worn 
that a great pity and love surged up in David’s 
heart, and he said : “Concerning this Goliath of 
Gath, let no man’s heart fail him because of 


132 David, the Boy Harper 

him. Thy servant will go and fight with this 
Philistine.” 

But the king said, kindly, ‘‘Thou art not able 
to go against this Philistine, to fight with him; 
for thou art but a youth, and he a man of war 
from his youth.” 

David was no boaster; but he had prayed 
the Lord to help him and to give him words, 
and he felt the inward voice telling him to re- 
hearse to the king a part of his history, that 
the king might know that in God was the 
strength which nerved his arm. So he said, in 
a modest way, that won all hearts: “Thy serv- 
ant kept his father’s sheep, and there came a 
lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the 
flock ; and I went out after him, and smote him, 
and delivered it out of his mouth, and when he 
arose against me, I caught him by his beard, 
and smote him and slew him. Thy servant slew 
both the lion and the bear; and this uncircum- 
cised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing 
he hath defied the armies of the living God.” 

As David told his story, he forgot himself 
and the princely company about him, and was 
alone on the mountain with the lion, as he 
raised his staff and caught the trembling lamb 
from the jaws of the evil beast. 


David Kills Goliath 


133 


King and courtiers looked upon the young 
hero in delighted astonishment, as he lifted his 
eyes reverently to heaven, and said : ‘'The Lord 
that delivered me out of the paw of the lion and 
out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me 
out of the hand of this Philistine.’’ 

Such faith would move mountains, and it 
swept away the king’s misgivings and fears. 
“Go,” he said with renewed confidence, “and 
the Lord be with thee.” 

Jonathan’s armor-bearer, who knew David 
the moment he had appeared in the audience 
chamber, now sprang forward to execute the 
king’s command to arm David with one of the 
king’s suits of armor. 

“The Lord be with thee,” he whispered, as 
he fastened the helmet on his head and buckled 
the coat of mail about him. 

How he had longed to go and meet this 
enemy of Israel, but the king would not give 
him leave, nor would he listen to a word from 
the princely Jonathan, who also would have gone 
against the champion. 

But now the royal consent was given, and 
the day might yet end in victory instead of 
defeat. 

But when David was completely armed and 


134 


David, the Boy Harper 


started to go from the royal presence he felt 
like a caged eagle. 

“I can not go thus,” he said, ‘‘for I have not . 
proved this heavy suit of armor. Give me my 
shepherd’s cloak and wallet, and my trusty staff 
of olive-wood.” 

The king opposed no obstacle, and David 
was soon escorted to the hill opposite the one on 
which the champion stood, waiting for the foe 
that he vainly thought would never dare to 
come. 

Down the slope David sprang with the same 
sure tread that Jobab had likened to a wild goat 
of the mountains. 

The huge champion at first only smiled dis- 
dainfully as he saw an unarmed youth running 
towards him. But as David reached the valley, 
the giant saw him pause and stoop to pick up 
something from the dry bed of a stream. 

Then on came the brave youth, springing 
lightly up the steep sides of the hill on which 
the giant was standing. Constant exercise be- 
tween his home and the cave on the hillside had 
taught his muscles to respond to his will, and he 
almost flew up the hill, so that the amusement 
of Goliath changed to anger. 

“Am I a dog?” he roared, “that thou comest 


David Kills Goliath 


135 


to me with staves And with curses and bitter 
oaths the enraged and insulted coward shouted 
out, ''Come to me, and I will give thy flesh to 
the fowls of the air and to the beasts of the 
field/’ 

But David did not tremble at his words. His 
heart was fixed trusting in the Lord, and he 
answered as he ran: "Thou comest to me with 
a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; 
but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of 
hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom 
thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver 
thee into my hand, and all this assembly shall 
know that the Lord saveth not with sword and 
spear, for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will 
give you into our hands.” 

As David said these words he was choosing 
out the stone which seemed best fitted by shape 
and size to sling at the giant, and just as he had 
almost reached his opponent he swung his sling 
three times about his head, and then threw the 
stone with all his force straight at the eyes of the 
giant, which gleamed with a shifty light from 
out his thick locks, that hung like eagle’s feath- 
ers about his face. 

The stone sank into the giant’s forehead at 
the place left unprotected by his helmet, and he 


136 


David, the Boy Harper 


fell forward with great force on the steeply-slop- 
ing ground, and for a moment lay motionless 
upon his face. The cowardly armor-bearer 
dropped the mighty shield of brass, and fled 
panic-stricken, while David sprang forward, and 
catching his fingers in the giant’s thick locks, 
for the helmet had fallen off as Goliath fell, he 
held the head firm with his left hand, while with 
his right he snatched the giant’s sword from its 
scabbard, and severed the mighty head from the 
shoulders. 

As David rose, panting with his exertions, 
but triumphant over his enemy, a mighty shout 
rent the air, and Abner’s ringing voice could be 
heard giving the command, ‘‘Forward!” and at 
the word the soldiers rushed as one man to the 
aid of their victorious hero. He had no need 
of help, for the Philistines were in full retreat; 
for their courage failed them, now that their 
champion was gone. 

There was no time for congratulations, how- 
ever, for the troops of Israel followed hard after 
the fleeing Philistines; but David was unarmed 
and weary after his mighty effort, so he con- 
tented himself with securing the head of his 
enemy, as well as his arms and armor, which 
with the aid of admiring followers he carried to 


David Kills Goliath 


137 


his brother’s tent. Eliab was gone, for at last 
he was rushing in earnest against the foe, and 
like some other weak natures he had changed 
his attitude, and now spoke of his brother with 
the greatest pride; but it was too late to take 
away the stings and slights that brother had so 
often felt from his unkind words, for this was 
Eliab’s last battle. He fell fighting for king and 
country, and even his body was never recovered, 
and David wept honest tears, in the midst of his 
honors, at the loss of his handsome eldest 
brother. 

Abinadab and Shammah returned to rejoice 
over the great victory which the armies of Israel 
had won over the Philistines that day, and proud 
indeed were they to be the brothers of one living 
hero and one slain in defense of his country. 

Ziba spread a meal for the wearied and fam- 
ished David, who had hardly stopped to eat be- 
fore starting from home that morning, and who 
had been too excited to think of eating since 
that time. 

Later in the afternoon the troops began to 
return from spoiling the Philistines, for the en- 
emy had entered into the walled city of Ekron 
and were in temporary security. 

As the king returned with his chief captain 


138 David, the Boy Harper 

he said, ‘‘Abner, whose son is this youth?’’ Ab- 
ner, who had scarcely seen David when he was 
at court before, answered, “As thy soul liveth, 
O king, I can not tell.” 

And the king said, “Inquire thou whose son 
the stripling is.” 

Then Abner took David, and brought him 
before Saul, with the head of the Philistine in 
his hand. 

And Saul said to him, “Whose son art thou, 
young man?” 

As we have seen before, this was a favorite 
question with the king, who was so occupied 
with his own troubles that he had grown very 
forgetful. 

David looked at him, with love and loyalty 
mingled with the deepest respect and reverence, 
and answered modestly, “I am the son of thy 
servant Jesse, the Bethlehemite.” 

Proud, indeed, may the young man be who 
can mention his father’s name with the honor 
which David mingled in his tone! 


XIII 


DAVID AND JONATHAN 

I F Saul had forgotten David, Jonathan had 
not. A quick flush of surprise and delight 
overspread the features of the young prince as 
he recognized in the hero, standing so modestly 
before his father, the beautiful youth who had 
played so enchantingly on his harp. 

A wave of love and tenderness swept over 
the knightly soul of Jonathan as he looked upon 
David, and realized that his faith and bravery 
had turned defeat into victory, and taken away 
the reproach of the armies of Israel. 

How mean and inappropriate seemed the 
humble shepherd’s cloak that David wore to the 
hero-worshiping eyes of Jonathan! 

‘T must be careful not to awaken the jealousy 
of my father,” he thought as he held himself in 
check while the king gave commands to his 
scribe to write a letter to Jesse, informing him 
that because of David’s courage and strength, 
shown in his victory over Goliath, the king could 
no longer suffer him to abide in his father’s 
139 


140 David, the Boy Harper 

house, but desired to retain him in the palace 
as the king’s armor-bearer and royal harper. 
Jesse was commanded to send the instruments 
of music and other articles belonging to his son 
David, and to compensate the old man for the 
loss of his son’s services two servants were sent 
besides Ziba, who was appointed messenger be- 
tween the king’s court and the house of Jesse. 

Rich and costly garments, jewels, and orna- 
ments of gold, as well as gifts of food and money, 
accompanied this written message, so that, as 
so often happens in life, joy and sorrow came 
to the old man’s door together, joy in the safety 
and promotion of one loved son, and sorrow for 
the sore disaster in the loss of the other. 

As David turned to leave the audience- 
chamber a light touch on his arm drew his at- 
tention, and he saw a quick movement on the 
part of Jonathan’s armor-bearer, which beckoned 
him to an inner chamber, where he found the 
prince awaiting him. 

The door closed behind him, and the two 
young men were alone together. 

For a long time David had loved Jonathan, 
and longed to know him better, but he was not 
prepared for the loving embraces and brotherly 
kisses which Jonathan lavished upon him. 


David and Jonathan 141 

‘^God’s blessing be upon thee, my brother 
David,’’ he said, as he stood with his arm thrown 
lovingly across David’s shoulder. 

These words to a youth who had been flouted 
and disdained by his own brothers, and who had 
longed all his life for brotherly love, were sweeter 
than honey to David’s tender heart, and, as 
Selim had done when he found a friend, David 
fell on Jonathan’s neck with tears of joy. 

The new love was as sweet to Jonathan as to 
David. He, too, had longed for love, for his 
father’s jealous, selfish disposition had 'often 
pained his heart, and though he loved his father, 
and was loyal to him to the last day of his life, 
he could never manifest his tenderness to the 
moody and undemonstrative king without call- 
ing out some contemptuous remark about being 
a mother’s boy. 

Jonathan, indeed, resembled his mother more 
than his father in disposition and in the power of 
loving; but his tall, stalwart form, flashing eye, 
and undoubted courage and skill in the use of 
arms he inherited from his father as he was in 
his early days. He was a true son of Benjamin, 
and not even Saul his father, or Kish his grand- 
father, could excel him as an archer or a swords- 


man. 


142 


David, the Boy Harper 


“Not thus didst thou look when last my eyes 
beheld thee,” Jonathan said, touching the rough 
shepherd’s cloak. “These garments are un- 
worthy the great hero, and the king’s son, as 
thou wilt be, if my father fulfills his promise.” 
As Jonathan said these words he began to strip 
off his beautiful embroidered tunic and belt, set 
with precious stones, and to put them upon 
David. 

In vain the youth protested, and reminded 
the prince that the beautiful robe the king had 
given him would come with his other effects on 
the morrow. To love is to give, and nothing 
else would satisfy the loving heart of Jonathan 
but to give his choicest treasures to his new- 
found friend, even to his sword and bow and 
arrows. 

Jonathan selected from a chest of rich gar- 
ments another as nearly like the one he had be- 
stowed on David as he could find, and put it on, 
that he and David might look outwardly as they 
felt inwardly, like brothers. 

The room adjoining Jonathan’s was assigned 
to David, and on the morrow the beloved harp 
and the other belongings from home came, to- 
gether with a set of curtains and pillows em- 
broidered by his mother and her maidens. To 


David and Jonathan 


143 


make these had long been a labor of love with 
Nahash, for she thought, ‘‘When David brings 
his wife home these curtains shall ornament her 
chamber, and these pillows shall make a soft bed 
for her/’ But now she realized that the eagle 
had indeed left the home nest, as Jobab was so 
fond of saying, and that henceforth his home 
would be in kings’ palaces. 

She never dreamed of the nights he must yet 
spend with no curtains but the open sky, and no 
pillows but the flinty rock, before a crown should 
rest upon his sunny hair. 

This room of David’s opened upon a balcony, 
and here each night he slept, and no one thought 
any less of a young man who preferred the hard- 
ships of a soldier’s life to a life of indolence and 
luxury. If David had been easily spoiled, he 
would have grown vain and haughty in the 
weeks following his victory over Goliath. 

Minstrels chanted his praises, singing girls 
made him their theme in the dance, and beau- 
tiful women smiled upon him. 

But dearer to him a thousand-fold was the 
warm, brotherly love of his twin-soul, Jonathan. 
Many hours did they spend together in the pal- 
ace and in the field, where Jonathan went each 
day to practice shooting with bow and arrows. 


144 David, the Boy Harper 

The faithful armor-bearer often accompanied 
them, and his was the pleasant task to instruct 
David in his new duties as armor-bearer to the 
king. No jealousy ever entered his generous 
heart, and he often smiled with pleasure as he 
remembered his first visit to the cave in Bethle- 
hem, and the wonderful results that the Lord 
had brought out of it. 

At last a day of public rejoicing was decided 
upon. The people were wild with joy, that the 
long war with the Philistines was over, and that 
victory had come to the armies of Israel. They 
clamored to see the youthful hero, whose praises 
were filling the land, and Saul and his counselors 
decided to gratify them. 

Arrayed in kingly state, and seated beside 
the king in his golden chariot, the youthful hero 
rode over a triumphal course from city to city, 
while the women of every city came out to meet 
the king and his young armor-bearer, and sang 
songs of congratulation, with accompaniments 
of tabret, harp, cornets, and all kinds of instru- 
ments of music. 

The harmonies pleased David, who had never 
heard any music but his own and that of wander- 
ing musicians, who were always welcomed at his 
father’s fireside. 


David and Jonathan 


H5 


But it pained him that the singers ascribed 
the honor and the victory to man, more than to 
God. He longed to take the harp into his own 
hands, and to sing: 

“Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto 
thy name give glory! O Israel, trust in the 
Lord ; he is their help and their shield I” 

If the songs were displeasing to David, 
they were doubly so to Saul. He looked 
upon himself as the hero of the day. Did 
not he follow after the retreating Philistines, 
and pursue them until they entered into the 
stronghold? 

But the merry troops of women singers all 
persisted in looking at David and ignoring the 
king, and they sang this refrain over and over 
again, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David 
his ten thousands.” 

“Whom has he slain but one man, by a lucky 
chance of fate?” the black-browed king asked 
himself, while he counted over the victories that 
he had won, from the first days when he was 
crowned king until now. 

The bitterness which most men feel, sooner 
or later, as they see those younger than them- 
selves supplanting them in the eyes of the peo- 
ple came upon Saul as he looked upon the youth 

lO 


146 David, the Boy Harper 

beside him, and thought that but for him David 
would still be tending his father’s sheep. 

O no, Saul, you have done none of these 
things! Nathan the prophet gives honor where 
it is due, when he says, ''Thus saith the Lord of 
hosts, I took thee from the sheepcote, from fol- 
lowing the sheep, to be ruler over my people, 
over Israel.” 

And because David knew and realized that all 
the honor belonged to God, he was unspoiled 
by all this flattery and homage. 

It was a relief when this time of public rejoic- 
ing was over, and David could take up again the 
daily life of the palace, with its few and pleasant 
duties, and its many and rare pleasures. 

But on the second day after the king’s return 
from his triumphal tour, an event occurred that 
opened David’s eyes to the king’s newly-awak- 
ened jealousy and hatred of him. At Jonathan’s 
request, David had taken his harp into the pres- 
ence of King Saul, whose mood of sullen misery 
showed that his malady was again upon him, and 
David began to sing the old song which had 
pleased the king before. 

Instead of tears and melting tenderness, the 
song seemed to arouse all the wrath and smolder- 
ing hate and jealousy in King Saul’s breast. 


David and Jonathan 


147 


him they have ascribed tens of thousands, 
while to me they ascribe but thousands,’’ he 
thought, ‘‘and what more can he have but the 
kingdom?” 

A sudden rage possessed him, and, without 
stopping to think, he hurled a light javelin which 
he held in his hand at David. When his attacks 
of madness came upon the unhappy king his 
eyes were red and bloodshot, and he could not 
see well, and for this reason, and because of his 
trembling hands, the dart that when he .was in 
his right mind he could throw with unerring aim 
fell wide of the mark, and David escaped unhurt. 

Again he began to sing, choosing a bright 
and lively air and a jubilant psalm of praise, 
hoping thus to awaken pleasant thoughts in the 
king’s breast, and again the fatal dart came hurl- 
ing through the air, to fall harmlessly by David’s 
side. 

David was no coward to seek safety in flight, 
but the king’s chief physician led the unhappy 
monarch away to his room, telling him that it 
was necessary to apply the leech, and David was 
left alone with Jonathan. 

“My brother David, if thou hadst died I should 
have died with thee,” Jonathan said, as he wept 
upon his shoulder. “More than once has my 


148 David, the Boy Harper 

father thrown his javelin at me when these fits of 
madness are upon him. Forgive him, my be- 
loved, for he will repent of what he has done 
when the evil spirit departs from him.” 

“Fear not, beloved brother,” David answered. 
“What thou hast borne so patiently and so long 
will I bear, and the God who has protected thee 
will also protect me, and save me from the king’s 
wrath. But it may be that he will send me from 
his presence, since I have become hateful unto 
him, and then what will become of our beautiful 
friendship and our brotherly love?” 

David was sorry for the words as soon as he 
had spoken them, for Jonathan threw himself 
down at David’s feet, and said with choking 
sobs, “The Lord be between me and thee, and 
between my seed and thy seed forever.” 

David kneeled beside him with his arms about 
his friend, and tears and prayers mingled as they 
communed with each other and with God. 

Both arose calmed and strengthened. Storms 
might beat about them; foes might come be- 
tween them; death might separate them from 
each other’s embrace; but neither storms, nor 
foes, nor death itself, could henceforth sever 
those two loving hearts, who thus bound them- 
selves the one to the other by covenant. 


XIV 


DAVID MARRIES THE KING'S DAUGHTER 

I N spite of King Saules enmity and unreasoning 
jealousy against David, he did not dare to 
send him back to his father’s home and to a life 
of obscurity, for he had become the idol of the 
people. 

But his daily presence as the king’s armor- 
bearer and royal harper became intolerable to 
the jealous king, and to rid himself of David’s 
company without seeming to break faith with 
him, Saul appointed him captain over a regiment 
of a thousand men. 

This was a post of honor, and a house of his 
own was provided for David, so that he only 
appeared at the royal table on certain feast days, 
or when he was specially invited. 

Jonathan also brought his family home to his 
own house in Gibeah of Saul, the royal city, for 
peace again reigned, following the great victory 
over the Philistines in the valley of Elah. 

The training that David had received during 
the months which he had spent in camp in inti- 

149 


150 David, the Boy Harper 

mate companionship with Jonathan and his 
armor-bearer, now helped him to understand his 
duties as captain in the army. 

His soldiers loved him and honored him, 
though they knew his history and realized that 
he had not risen from the ranks to his high post 
of honor. However, promotion was not a mat- 
ter of routine in military life then as it is now, 
but rather a matter of favoritism, for Abner, the 
chief captain of the army, was King Saul's uncle, 
and when David became king his four nephews, 
Abishai, Joab, Asahel, and Amasa, were all num- 
bered among his chief captains and mighty men. 

After some months had passed without any 
fulfillment of Saul's promise to give his daughter 
to the man who should overcome the giant Go- 
liath, the people began to murmur, and to accuse 
the king of having broken faith with David. 

Both of Saul's daughters, Merab and Michal, 
were proud and handsome princesses, with their 
father's dark beauty and imperious will. 

‘‘If I can only tempt David to commit some 
foolish or treasonable act," Saul thought to him- 
self, “or better still, if I can send him on some 
fool's errand where he will lose his life, I shall 
avoid the necessity of giving him either one of 
my daughters, for to be the king's son-in-law 


David Marries Michal 


151 

will only make him more popular with the peo- 
ple, and help him in his ambitious designs.” 

So the king kept making promises which he 
did not mean to keep, until when the time ar- 
rived when Merab, the older daughter, was to 
have been given to David as his wife, she was 
instead hastily married to Adriel, the son of Bar- 
zillai, who seems to have been a rich and notable 
man. 

David had no heart-breaking sorrow over 
this, however, for he was not permitted by the 
customs of those times to have a personal ac- 
quaintance with either of the royal princesses, 
and he had only seen them peeping out from a 
curtain or a lattice with other women when he 
had played on the harp in the king’s apartment. 

But the cowardice and falsehood of the king 
stirred his indignation, and when, to excuse his 
act of perfidy. King Saul made another promise, 
that Michal should be given to David if he 
would kill a hundred men of the king’s enemies, 
David and his men immediately attacked the 
garrison of the Philistines, and killed two hun- 
dred men in a single battle. 

Saul could no longer evade the fulfillment 
of his promise, and he was the more ready to 
give his second daughter Michal to David be- 


152 


David, the Boy Harper 


cause he had found out that she had taken a 
violent fancy to the young hero, and he thought 
to himself that with her strong will and imperi- 
ous temper she would prove a snare to David, 
and would be apt to lead him into some impru- 
dence or folly. 

So preparations for the royal marriage were 
made on a scale of great magnificence. Rich 
robes and jewels in great abundance were fur- 
nished for the bride, and stores of linen and silk 
and woolen curtains and garments and bed fur- 
nishings were sent to David’s house as a part of 
the bride’s dowry. 

Ziba, who was still messenger between Beth- 
lehem and the royal city, carried the news of 
David’s approaching marriage to the house of 
Jesse in Bethlehem. 

This was indeed exciting news. From the 
days of David’s babyhood Nahash had been 
making preparations for this day. He was the 
youngest of the family, and most of his older 
brothers had families of their own, who either 
lived in the household of Jesse, or in houses with 
which he had provided them in the neighbor- 
hood. 

His sisters, Zeruiah and Abigail, who were 
the oldest children of the family, were married 


David Marries Michal 


153 


early, and each had sons as old as their youngest 
brother David, so there had been an attempt on 
the part of the women of the family to provide 
an abundance of beautiful and useful articles 
against the day when David should bring home 
a wife. 

But David’s chamber, which had been care- 
fully kept for him on his return, was not to be 
honored with rich hangings and adornings, for 
he was so occupied with the duties and respon- 
sibilities of his new life that his parents could not 
hope for even a visit from their royal daughter- 
in-law. 

But if David was busy he was not forgetful. 
Never was Ziba allowed to depart on his visits 
to Bethlehem without carrying with him gifts 
and loving messages to the household of Jesse. 
Even Selim and old Jobab were remembered, 
and a beautiful robe, with trees of life upon it, 
like the one which had once awakened the Arab 
boy’s admiration, was sent to the former, while 
Jobab rejoiced in a long shepherd’s cloak of 
finest camel’s-hair, lined with soft and costly fur, 
both of which garments were never worn except 
on the occasion of David’s marriage. 

For not even a fear of the king’s displeasure 
would keep David from sending a warm and 


154 David, the Boy Harper 

loving invitation to all the members of his fa- 
ther's household to come and rejoice with him 
at the marriage feast. 

The invitation was accepted, and Jesse and 
Nahash, with their two daughters, Zeruiah and 
Abigail, and their four grandsons, Abishai, Joab, 
Asahel, and Amasa, arrived at David's house a 
full week before the wedding festivities were to 
begin. 

A train of asses came with them, loaded with 
gifts of food and clothing ; for more than a hun- 
dred persons must be fed and lodged during the 
seven days of the wedding feast, and Nahash felt 
that no one else could plan as well as she for the 
comfort and pleasure of David's guests. 

David’s joy in seeing his parents and relatives 
was very great, and no prince of a royal house . 
could have been prouder than he of those to 
whom he was bound by ties of blood as well as 
ties of affection. 

The king’s cooks and confectioners were busy 
in preparing great quantities of dried raisins, 
cakes of figs, confections of dates and sugar, as 
well as mountains of bread and cheese; but Na- 
hash superintended the making of countless 
honey-cakes, of which she knew David was fond, 
as well as the wafer-like cakes baked on heated 


David Marries Michal 


155 


stones, which were so thin and delicate that they 
could be rolled up while warm, and which kept 
their freshness for several days. 

Jesse showed the young men how to build 
brush fires at some distance from the house, and 
to roast the ears of wheat by tying them to- 
gether in bunches, and holding them suspended 
on sticks until the chaff was all burned off and 
the kernels swelled out round and plump and 
assumed a beautiful brown color, while they took 
on that rich, nutty flavor that made parched corn 
such a delicacy in those days. Grapes from 
Jesse’s vineyard had been brought, and the rich, 
full clusters were hung up, half covered with 
leaves, where the guests could help themselves 
as if they had been in a vineyard. 

On the day of the wedding the meats and 
vegetables were prepared. Kids and goats in 
great numbers were roasted whole in pits of 
coals, and curious dishes of humming-birds and 
partridges graced the festal board. 

At last all was ready, and David, beautifully 
dressed in a white tunic wrought with golden 
lilies, and with a crown of gold on his head, 
started out with his brothers and nephews and 
companions, thirty young men m all, to bring 
home the bride. At the palace he was met by 


156 David, the Boy Harper 

Saul and his sons, and the bride, surrounded by 
the relatives and maids of honor. It was from 
Jonathan’s hands that David received his bride, 
for Saul pleaded a sudden indisposition, and it 
was a relief to David and Jonathan that they 
could be happy together without those evil eyes 
ever upon them. 

‘‘My brother, indeed,” Jonathan whispered, 
as he pressed a loving kiss on David’s brow. 

The whole party now returned to David’s 
house, and all sat down to the wedding banquet. 
The bride and groom shared the bread and wine 
and exchanged rings, which made up the mar- 
riage ceremony ; but David’s heart was so full of 
joy and gratitude that he would not eat until he 
had given praise to God. 

This pleased David’s reverent old father and 
Jonathan; but it displeased the bride, who 
thought, “How foolish David is to be so over- 
religious in everything, while he hardly looks 
at me in my bridal finery !” David, on his part, 
was thinking, “If only she is like her brother 
Jonathan, I can not help loving her when I know 
her better.” 

Jokes and merry laughter resounded through 
the rooms when the feast was over, and the 
toasts and congratulations began, and a gay, joy- 


David Marries Michal 


157 


ous hum echoed through the spacious halls as 
relatives and friends talked with one another. 

Michal was not pleased with these country 
relations of her husband, and she was disgusted 
to notice how David watched over the comfort 
and happiness of even the meanest servant from 
his father’s house. 

“He seems to care more for that stooping old 
shepherd, who smells of the stables, and of that 
wild-eyed, black-browed boy, than he does for 
me,” she thought, jealously, as she saw him 
speaking kindly and lovingly to Jobab and Se- 
lim, as they started on their homeward journey. 
She was glad when the seven days were over, 
and the last guest had taken his departure. 

“Now I can have David to myself,” she 
thought ; for she was fond of him in her proud, 
stormy way, and he was always loving and ten- 
der with her, and treated her with the honor and 
respect to which she was accustomed as a king’s 
daughter. 

But the unwelcome thought grew daily 
stronger that Michal was not like her brother 
Jonathan. Two subjects that were dearer than 
life to David were disagreeable and exasperating 
to his young wife — his home and his religion. 

If the cook served a dish that reminded David 


158 David, the Boy Harper 

of his mother’s cooking he would sometimes 
speak of it, until he saw the frown on his wife’s 
face, and observed that she gave no answer to 
what he had said. 

For the sake of peace David held his peace 
in regard to the dear ones in Bethlehem ; but he 
could not so easily be silent about the hope and 
faith in God, which were a part of his very life. 

‘Terhaps I may win her to a better knowl- 
edge of the God of Israel,” he thought, and for 
that reason he sang his simplest, sweetest songs 
to please her. 

She liked better the clashing, jangling music 
of the triangle and tabret, and she loved to watch 
her maidens in their graceful, voluptuous 
dances ; but for the songs of Israel she had little 
liking, and rarely asked her husband to sing. 

She was very vain, and was never happier 
than when she was adorned in her most beautiful 
robes and jewels and reclined on cushions, while 
her young husband sat beside her and admired 
her dark, gypsy-like beauty. 

A newly-married man was exempt from mili- 
tary duty for one year, and as the land was at 
peace David had little to do but to wait upon 
the whims and caprices of his young wife. 

He often thought of the words of the armor- 


David Marries Michal 


159 


bearer in regard to the gilded cage which the 
king would give him, and reflected with a sigh 
that the door of his gilded cage was shut, and 
that he was losing all of his old joy and freedom 
in this life of gilded ease. 

But Jonathan was more than a brother to 
him. Their favorite habit was to go out into 
the fields together for friendly contests of skill — 
David with his sling and stones, and Jonathan 
with his bows and arrows. 

But Michal’s jealous nature could not endure 
to see her husband happy with any one but her- 
self, and she watched the love of David and Jona- 
than with as much displeasure as Saul the king 
had felt. 


XV 


MICHAL SAVES DAVID^S LIFE 
HE year of David’s exemption from military 



1 duty was over, and the time had come when 
kings went forth to battle. David took com- 
mand of his men and led them forth against the 
Philistines, who had rallied their forces since 
their overwhelming defeat in the valley of Elah. 

A speedy victory for Israel was the result, and 
David’s name was again brought before the peo- 
ple. This immediately roused King Saul’s jeal- 
ousy, and he went so far as to give secret com- 
mands to his officers to kill David. It was not 
merely because of Saul’s personal hatred of 
David that he desired his death. It was because 
Saul realized that David was the ‘'neighbor” 
better than himself, to whom Samuel had told 
him God was determined to give the kingdom, 
and the unhappy king set himself deliberately to 
thwart the will of God. 

But David had a friend at court in the person 
of Jonathan. If love is blind, friendship is far- 
seeing, and Jonathan was ever watching over 


i6o 


Michal Saves David’s Life i6i 

his friend’s reputation and life, and thus a rumor 
of the king’s evil purpose soon reached him. 
At once he sought out his friend, and told him : 
‘‘My father seeketh to kill thee ; now, therefore, 
I pray thee take heed to thyself until the morn- 
ing, and abide in a secret place and hide thyself. 
And I will go out and stand beside my father in 
the field where thou art, and I will commune 
with my father of thee, and what I see, that I 
will tell thee.” 

The two friends were familiar with a kind of 
cave or rocky hollow which they had discovered 
one day in hunting, but which was completely 
hidden from view by rocks and thick clumps of 
bushes, and this was the retreat which Jonathan 
meant when he advised David to hide himself 
in the field. 

Saul took very little exercise, and rarely 
walked abroad with his son; but as Jonathan 
lovingly threw his arm about his father’s shoul- 
der and asked him to accompany him into the 
fields the king consented, thinking to himself 
that when his commands to kill David were exe- 
cuted he could have more of his son’s company 
than he had enjoyed for a long time. 

At last when father and son were some dis- 
tance from the palace, out of the reach of listen- 


II 


i 62 


David, the Boy Harper 


ing ears, except those of the young son-in-law 
of the king who was hidden in the cave, Jonathan 
began to speak of the rumor which he had heard, 
and to urge his father to spare David's life. 

In coaxing tones he pleaded with his stub- 
born father, to turn him from his evil designs. 

‘Xet not the king sin against his servant, 
against David,” he said, ‘‘because he hath not 
sinned against thee, and because his works have 
been to theeward very good. For he did put 
his life in his hand and slew the Philistine, and 
the Lord wrought a great salvation for all Israel. 
Thou sawest it, and didst rejoice; wherefore, 
then, wilt thou sin against innocent blood to 
slay David without a cause?” 

Like most bad men, Saul had a good and a 
bad side to his character, and these words of 
Jonathan touched what was noblest in him, and 
he answered in tones of deepest sincerity, “As 
the Lord liveth, he shall not be slain.” 

This was more than a promise ; it was a sacred 
oath, and Jonathan was overjoyed to hear the 
good news from his father’s lips; but he had 
learned wisdom by the experience of the past, so 
he turned the conversation and talked of other 
things, that he might not allow his father to see 
his joy at his friend’s safety. 


Michal Saves David’s Life 


163 


David remained in his place of hiding until 
early evening, when Jonathan could come again 
to the field without fear of detection. The listen- 
ing ears of the chilled and cramped occupant 
of the cave heard at last the whispered words, 
‘‘David, my brother, come forth ; all is well.’’ 

In a moment the two friends were locked in a 
loving embrace, and the sorrows of the past two 
days were forgotten. 

Jonathan had brought food, for he knew that 
David had remained all day fasting, and the two 
friends ate and talked together, not forgetting to 
give praise to God, who had answered their 
prayers in softening the king’s heart. 

“I am richer than a king in thy love, my 
brother Jonathan,” David said, as they rose from 
their repast and started towards the city. 

“Thou shalt be king of Israel, my David, and 
I shall be next to thee,” Jonathan said, with a 
loving look, for in the intimacy of friendly com- 
panionship David had told Jonathan of his 
anointing at the hands of Samuel, and both 
young men accepted it as the will of God that 
David should be king. 

All went well at court for many months. 
David behaved himself wisely with the king, at 
his home, and in the army. 


i 64 David, the Boy Harper 

Saul, however, still nursed his evil purpose, 
for he thought to himself, ‘‘As long as the son 
of Jesse lives, the kingdom will not be established 
in the hands of my son Jonathan,” and it roused 
the half-crazed king to a frenzy of passion when 
he saw his son loving and trusting the man who 
in God’s order was to usurp his throne, and sup- 
plant him in the hearts of the people. 

“If he can but fall into the hands of the enemy 
and be killed, I shall not be blamed, and my soft- 
hearted son of his mother can not look upon me 
with reproachful eyes,” Saul mused, and for this 
reason he sought to provoke a quarrel with the 
half-subdued Philistines, that he might send his 
son-in-law to avenge his honor and thus expose 
him to death at their hands. 

But an invisible shield was around David. 
The arrows fell thick about him; great stones 
came crashing through the air, to fall harmlessly 
at his feet ; the cavalry of the enemy tried in vain 
to trample him down ; and he returned victorious 
to the palace, with the loss of very few of his 
brave men. 

Saul’s smoldering rage burst into flame, and 
again he threw his javelin at David, meaning to 
pierce his heart, and to pin him against the wall 
with the sharp-pointed dart; but the invisible 


Michal Saves David’s Life 


165 

shield protected him, and he escaped unhurt, 
while the javelin remained quivering in the wall. 
This was no passing whim to be excused on the 
plea of madness, and David realized at last that 
he must leave his beautiful home and his young 
wife, and seek safety in flight. 

When he reached home, Michal had only bad 
news for him. Messengers from her father had 
come telling her to keep her husband in the 
house until morning, for the king had deter- 
mined to arrest him on some trumped-up charge, 
and to put him to death. 

No such unselfish love stirred in Michafs 
heart as that which prompted Jonathan to risk 
his life to save his friend ; but she feared and al- 
most hated her father, and such love as she was 
capable of feeling she felt for David, who had 
never said a harsh or unkind word to her, and 
who had been uniformly patient with all her 
caprices. 

^‘We have only to-night in which to plan your 
escape,^' she said, ‘%r if you tarry until the 
morning you will be slain.” 

Meanwhile a noise in the street revealed the 
fact that spies had followed David’s footsteps, 
and were watching outside the door to prevent 
his escape. 


i66 


David, the Boy Harper 


Every great man, and especially every popu- 
lar idol, has his enemies. Men had been found 
who were willing to swear that David had cursed 
the king, and thus been guilty of treason. So 
King Saul rejoiced all night that at last he had 
trapped his enemy. But he forgot that his 
daughter could scheme and plan as well as her 
father, and while the false witnesses against 
David paraded the streets, shouting out their 
false accusations against him, so that later when 
David recalled that night he said, “They belch 
out with their mouth, they make a noise like a 
dog, and go round about the city.’’ 

Michal was using her woman’s wit to save 
him. A small window in a dark corner of the 
house had escaped the notice of the watchers 
outside, and from this window a rope was let 
down, and by this means David escaped, after a 
loving farewell to his young wife and a promise 
to send for her at the earliest opportunity. 

As soon as he was gone, Michal began her 
preparations to deceive her household into be- 
lieving that David was still there. The wooden 
image of a man, which she had kept carefully 
hidden from her husband, because he abhorred 
idols, and had no sympathy with her secret belief 
in them, was brought out from its hiding-place. 


Michal Saves David’s Life 


167 


and David^s clothes were put upon it, after which 
it was carefully tucked in bed. Some of the old 
historians tell us that Michal took the liver of a 
goat which had been freshly killed, and placed 
it under the coverlid, that its quivering might 
suggest the beating of a heart in the wooden 
image. 

But I prefer to think that she kept her own 
counsel, and shared her secret with no one until 
the morning. 

Then, when the messengers of the king came 
to take David prisoner, she told them with true 
wifely solicitude that her husband was sick, and 
modestly pulled back the curtains of the bed, 
that the men might see that he was there. 

The ruse succeeded, and the men hastened 
to the king with the welcome news. ‘‘Bring 
him to me on his bed, if he can not walk,’^ the 
angry king commanded. 

The bed was lifted and carried to the king, 
who tore away the coverings, only to find an 
image in the bed, with a pillow of goats’ hair 
for his bolster. Saul speedily sent for his daugh- 
ter Michal, and when she appeared, he re- 
proached her bitterly with her conduct, and 
said, “Why hast thou deceived me so, and sent 
away mine enemy, that he is escaped?” 


i68 David, the Boy Harper 

Michal answered, “He said unto me, ‘Let me 
go; why should I kill thee?’ and for fear of my 
life I let him go.” 

As she said these false words, a quick mem- 
ory of the words he really did say came to her, 
and she thought how he had kissed her and 
said, “Let me go; for why should thy father 
kill me without a cause?” 

“He is no longer thy husband or the king’s 
son-in-law,” Saul answered, bitterly. “His own 
words have cut him off from thee forever; for 
how couldst thou again live with a man who 
has threatened to kill thee?” 

Michal regretted her falsehood when it was 
too late, but she dared not confess that her 
words were untrue, and she dared not refuse 
the new husband whom her father speedily 
found for her in the person of Phaltiel, the son 
of Laish. 

The new husband was also put in command 
of David’s regiment ; and as the king’s will was 
law, no voice was raised in protest, though there 
were many secret mutterings and many silent 
tears. 

Jonathan knew that he could best serve his 
friend by remaining at court and using his in- 
fluence with his father in David’s favor. 


Michal Saves David’s Life 


169 


As soon as David found himself outside the 
city walls on the night of his escape, he began 
to question where he should go. 

His heart turned with unutterable longing 
to his loved home in Bethlehem. He thought 
of the sleeping household there, and the joy they 
would feel to see him; he thought of Jobab in 
his shepherd’s hut, and Selim in his rock-bound 
cave; and he knew that either faithful heart 
would welcome him, though his coming meant 
danger, and perhaps death, to them. 

But no, he would not expose his old father 
and mother to danger, even by a farewell visit, 
and for the same reason he did not seek the 
camp and say good-bye to his brothers and 
nephews, who were now enrolled in King 
Saul’s army. 

Suddenly there came to David the vision of 
the kindly old man who had first whispered in 
his ear the words, “Thou shalt be king of Is- 
rael;” and he resolved to go to Samuel in his 
hour of need and perplexity. 

It was late at night when David had started, 
and the first gray streaks of dawn began to light 
up the streets of Ramah as David knocked at 
Samuel’s door. Most of the members of the 
household were still asleep, but the old judge 


170 David, the Boy Harper 

of Israel was awake, and welcomed David as 
if he had been his son. 

David hastily explained the reason of his 
coming, and asked Samuel’s advice as to what 
he should do. 

“Fear not, my son,” Samuel said, as he laid 
his hand lovingly on David’s head. “The king 
can not bring to naught the purposes of God, 
and though I may not live to see it, I know 
thou wilt yet be king of Israel; for the Spirit 
of the Lord said to me before I came to your 
father’s house, ‘Fill thine horn with oil, and 
go; I will send thee to Jesse the Bethlehemite, 
for I have provided me a king among his sons ;’ 
and when thou didst appear before me, the 
Lord said unto me, ‘Arise, anoint him, for this 
is he.’ Beware, my son, that thou doubt not 
the promise of the Lord; for he will certainly 
fulfill it, though the time may be long.” 

Thus encouraged and strengthened, David 
partook of the offered food, and composed him- 
self for needed rest after his journey. 

There was little likelihood that Saul would 
come to Ramah ; for he had for years avoided 
meeting Samuel, and no longer called upon him 
for advice and counsel as in the days past. 

For this reason it seemed the safest course 


Michal Saves David’s Life 


171 

for David to join the school of the prophets 
under Samuel’s direction, and to wait patiently 
until some rumor from court should indicate 
the king’s course of action. 

These days of waiting were not lost time to 
David. He entered into the quiet student life 
at Naioth of Ramah, and studied diligently the 
lessons given by Samuel, and, as he learned more 
of God’s wonderful dealings with Abraham, 
Moses, and Joshua, his faith and confidence in 
God were strengthened and confirmed. 


XVI 


THE LAD WITH THE ARROWS 

D AVID’S fancied security under the protec- 
tion of Samuel was soon rudely broken 
in upon by a visit from the messengers of King 
Saul, who had heard that David was in Ramah 
in the school of the prophets. 

But in the presence of those holy men the 
messengers themselves began to praise God and 
to prophesy, and after a short stay they returned 
to King Saul, and reported the failure of their 
mission. 

Three times were messengers sent to take 
David prisoner and bring him before the king, 
and each band of messengers was overcome by 
the mighty power of God’s Spirit, and returned 
without David. 

At last the king set out in person, thinking 
that he could resist the Spirit and capture his 
enemy in spite of God’s protecting power. 

At the great well of Sechu, Saul and his at- 
tendants halted, to inquire of the idlers who 
surrounded the well where they could find 
Samuel and David. 


172 


The Lad with the Arrows 


173 


They were told that Samuel and David were 
at Naioth with the prophets, and Saul hurried 
on, forgetting that he had feared to meet the 
just judge of Israel, and that Samuel was a man 
he could not buy or frighten. 

The Spirit of the Lord was upon the proph- 
ets, and David, who in his days of honor and 
prosperity had grown a little cold in his relig- 
ious life, was now restored to the full favor and 
fellowship of the sons of God, and the king saw 
his face shine like the face of an angel. 

A sudden feeling of shame swept over the 
haughty king as he looked on David’s face. 
Was this the man he had accused of treachery 
and treason, this angel-faced youth, with the 
courage of a lion and the heart of a child? 

The evil spirit slunk away from the heart 
which so long had harbored it, and Saul fell 
on his knees before Samuel and David with 
prayers and tears and stormy sobs. 

All day he lay upon his face before the Lord, 
and his murderous designs seemed to have left 
him forever. 

Even David was deceived into thinking that 
King Saul’s heart was changed, and after the 
king had taken his departure, David soon fol- 
lowed him to the royal city, feeling that now 


174 David, the Boy Harper 

perhaps he might return to his home and loved 
friends in safety. 

Like the needle to the pole, the heart turns 
to the one who loves it, and David’s first visit 
was to Jonathan, whose joy at seeing his friend 
was mingled with fear lest his coming should 
be known to the king. David did not know the 
specific charge against him, and had determined 
to find out, once for all, the crime or fault with 
which he was accused. 

What have I done?” he said to Jonathan. 

What is mine iniquity? and what is my sin be- 
fore thy father, that he seeketh my life?” 

Jonathan could not believe that his father 
seriously meant to kill David; so he answered: 
“God forbid ! Thou shalt not die. Behold, my 
father will do nothing, either great or small, 
but that he will show it me. And why should 
my father hide this thing from me? It is 
not so.” 

But David’s fears could not so easily be 
put aside, and he said : “Thy father certainly 
knoweth that I have found grace in thy eyes, 
and he saith, ‘Let not Jonathan know this, lest 
he be grieved but truly as the Lord liveth, and 
thy soul liveth, there is but a step between me 
and death.” 


The Lad with the Arrows 


175 


This was more than the faithful heart of Jon- 
athan could bear, and he flung his arms about 
his friend's neck, while he begged him to tell 
him what he could do to serve him. ‘‘What- 
soever thy soul desireth, I will even do it for 
thee," he said. 

David then outlined a plan which he had 
been thinking over on his way from Ramah, 
whereby he could determine the king's purpose 
and intent towards him. 

On the next day, David knew, there was to 
be a great state banquet, which came but once 
a year, when the new moon came on the first 
day of the seventh month. 

At this banquet all of the king's chief officers 
were expected to appear, to promise loyalty to 
the king for the coming year. David did not 
yet know that his position as captain of a thou- 
sand men, and even his wife, had been given 
to another; for Jonathan only begged him not 
to go home until they were certain there was 
no danger, and did not tell him that his home 
was shut against him. 

So David said to Jonathan: “Behold, to- 
morrow is the new moon, and I should not fail 
to sit with the king at meat ; but let me go that 
I may hide myself in the field unto the third 


176 David, the Boy Harper 

day at even. If thy father at all miss me, then 
say, ‘David earnestly asked leave of me, that 
he might run to Bethlehem, his city; for there 
is a yearly sacrifice there for all the family. If 
he say thus, ‘It is well,’ thy servant shall have 
peace; but if he be very wroth, then be sure 
that evil is determined by him.” 

Jonathan hastily gathered together a num- 
ber of warm garments and coverings and a 
goodly supply of food, and the two friends set 
out together towards the shelter in the field, 
where they had so often met for friendly talk 
and brotherly confidences. 

It was evening, and the field was deserted, 
so that the rocky hollow was reached in safety. 
A slablike stone lay upon the entrance to the 
cave of rocks, and through a crevice above a 
hand could be reached out, and the slab could 
be drawn back into its place, thus eflfectually 
concealing the very existence of such a shelter 
from any one not familiar with its location. 

David and Jonathan, in a spirit of boyish 
fun, had planned this place of meeting, and had 
arranged the traplike door of stone upon a roll- 
ing groove many months before, little thinking 
that the time might come when it would become 
a hiding-place for one of them. 


The Lad with the Arrows 177 

Once inside, they lighted a small lamp, 
whose feeble ray could not be seen from the 
outside, and as they had so often done before, 
they threw themselves down, side by side, on 
the rocky floor. 

Jonathan begged David to eat, but his anx- 
iety was too great to think of food, and he 
hungered too long for an hour with his friend 
to waste any of the precious time in eating. 

This long, loving talk was never forgotten 
by either of the two friends. Jonathan told 
David everything; for love can not endure re- 
serve of confidence, and as David learned of 
his wife’s falsehood and its results, he laid his 
head against the stone walls and wept aloud. 

‘T tried to win her love,” he said at last, “and 
more than all I tried to win her to a love of 
God; but now she is lost to me forever, and I 
have miserably failed.” 

Jonathan could only weep in sympathy, but 
at last his hopeful spirit asserted itself, and he 
began to look upon the bright side. 

“Thy soldiers love thee,” he said; “thy bro- 
thers and nephews are brave men and would 
give their lives for thee, and, living or dying, 
I am thine forever, my beloved. So do not de- 
spair, — all may yet be well.” 


12 


178 


David, the Boy Harper 


Such sympathy would sweeten even death 
itself, and David looked up with a brighter 
face. ‘‘Who shall tell me?’’ he said; “or what, 
if thy father answer thee roughly?” 

“I will tell thee,” Jonathan made haste to 
answer. “Go in peace to thy father’s house, 
and keep the feast with thy kindred, as thy 
soul desireth. And when thou hast staid three 
days, then thou shalt go down quickly and come 
to the place where thou didst hide thyself when 
the business was in hand, and shalt remain by 
the stone EzeL And I will shoot three arrows 
on the side thereof, as though I shot at a mark. 
And behold, I will send a lad, saying, ‘Go, find 
out the arrows.’ If I expressly say unto the 
lad, ‘Behold, the arrows are on this side of thee, 
lake them,’ then come thou; for there is peace 
to thee, and no hurt as the Lord liveth. But if 
I say thus unto the young man, ‘Behold the 
arrows are beyond thee,’ go thy way; for be- 
hold, the Lord hath sent thee away. And as 
touching the matter which thou and I have 
spoken of, behold, the Lord be between thee 
and me forever.” 

A silence more eloquent than words followed, 
during which the wet cheeks of the two bro- 
thers were pressed against each other, while 


The Lad with the Arrows 


179 


their arms were entwined about each other’s 
necks; then, with a murmured blessing, Jon- 
athan reached out and slid the stone away, and 
took a speedy but silent departure. 

Ezel means departure, and so the two friends 
had named the sliding stone that hid the cave 
in the field, and for that reason David knew 
that his friend meant him to conceal himself on 
the third day in the retreat where he then was, 
as only the two friends knew of this secret place 
of meeting. 

Without daring to wait for daylight, David 
hastily ate of the food that Jonathan had 
brought, and, throwing a heavy cloak over his 
own military dress, that he might not be recog- 
nized if he chanced to meet any one, he set 
forth on the road to Bethlehem. 

Every step towards his boyhood’s home 
cheered his spirits and warmed his heart. 
Here at least he was sure of a welcome, though 
his own door was closed against him and his 
wife had already forgotten him and was mar- 
ried to another. “The mother heart never for- 
gets,” he thought, as he pictured his mother’s 
joy at seeing her youngest-born. 

Surprise and joy mingled together as the 
awakened household welcomed him in the early 


i8o David, the Boy Harper 

morning. They had heard of his flight, and 
knew that the king had cast him off and mar- 
ried his daughter to another; and it gladdened 
David’s heart to hear his father say: ‘T knew 
thou wert innocent, my boy. If all the world 
called thee a traitor or a coward, I should 
know they were liars, and that my David was 
true and honorable.” 

Out of such home faith and trust are heroes 
born and nurtured. 

Jobab took David out to where the fine 
flock of sheep were feeding, and proudly told 
him how the flock had increased and prospered 
under his care. ‘Tf the king does not know 
an honest man when he sees him, come back 
to thy father’s house, and help me in keeping 
the sheep, as thou wert used to do,” the old 
man said; for even the king on his throne did 
not awe the mind of the simple shepherd, who 
was one of nature’s noblemen. 

Selim had grown until David could hardly 
believe it was he; and during the feast day the 
adopted boy was made a son indeed by his mar- 
riage to one of the granddaughters of Jesse. 

The three days passed like a happy dream, 
and David, pledging his brothers and nephews 
to keep silence about having seen him at his 


The Lad with the Arrows i8i 


father’s house, started before daylight for his 
long walk to Gibeah of Saul. 

It was early morning when David entered 
into the hiding-place agreed upon with his 
friend; for he knew that Jonathan’s custom was 
to walk in the fields, and to practice archery 
in the early morning. 

In order to avoid suspicion, Jonathan did 
not leave the city alone, but took with him a 
lad who carried his bows and arrows. 

When they were near the hidden cave, Jon- 
athan shot an arrow, and as the lad ran to 
find it, he cried out, “Is not the arrow beyond 
thee?” and then, fearing he had not made his 
meaning plain enough to those eager, listen- 
ing ears, he called out, “Make speed, haste, 
stay not.” He had kept his promise and 
warned his friend, but he could not leave him 
thus, without a word of love or of farewell. 

Giving his bows and arrows into the hands 
of the lad, and telling him to carry them into 
the city, Jonathan threw himself down to wait 
until the lad was well out of sight and hearing. 

But David could not wait; he pushed the 
stone aside and sprang out to comfort his loved 
Jonathan, who, more than David, seemed to 
need comfort. 


i 82 David, the Boy Harper 

With tears which he could not restrain, Da- 
vid fell at Jonathan’s feet and kissed him, and 
wept over him. 

‘‘What said the king?” David asked at last, 
as Jonathan hesitated to tell him. 

“His anger was hot against me,” Jonathan 
answered. “He cursed me and reviled my mo- 
ther’s name; he called me the son of a perverse 
and rebellious woman; he told me that while 
David lived upon the earth my chances of be- 
ing king were as nothing; and he ended by 
saying that David must surely die. When I 
said to him in my wrath, ‘Wherefore shall he 
be slain? what hath he done?’ he cast the javelin 
at me with his trembling hand, and it lay across 
the table. I could not eat; for my anger was 
choking me, and I arose from the table in haste, 
and, without looking back, fled to my mother’s 
room, where she kissed and comforted me, as 
she has ever done.” 

David realized that Saul’s promises in Ramah 
were not to be depended upon, and that he must 
indeed become a wanderer on the face of the 
earth, without even the comfort of Jonathan’s 
companionship and sympathy. 

“A lion or a bear I can kill,” he thought; 
“the fierce Philistine I could overcome ; but 


The Lad with the Arrows 183 


God forbid that I should raise my hand against 
the Lord’s anointed, to do him harm.” 

So, disguising himself as an old man in a 
shepherd’s cloak, which he had brought from 
home, and with the shapeless cap and sandals 
that Jobab had given him for the purpose, he 
arose and prepared to set forth on his unwel- 
come journey. Jonathan pressed a purse of 
gold into his hands, and said: ‘‘Go in peace, 
forasmuch as we have sworn both of us in the 
name of the Lord, saying, ‘The Lord be between 
me and thee, and between my seed and thy 
seed forever.’ ” 

A few more loving vows and promises; a 
few words of importunate prayer for each 
other’s safety and welfare; a short season of 
heart-breaking weeping, when both were shaken 
by sobs, such as only strong men may feel, — 
and the two friends arose from the ground 
where they had been lying, and David took the 
road towards the south, while Jonathan went 
sadly back to the city. 


XVII 


DAVID STOOPS TO DECEPTION 

W HEN David escaped from the hand of 
Saul before, and sought safety with 
Samuel at Ramah, he went in haste and alone, 
under cover of the darkness. 

Now he walked slowly and in broad daylight, 
trusting in his disguise to protect him; and he 
did not intend to go alone. 

When he had taken leave of his brothers, 
Abinadab and Shammah, and of his four neph- 
ews, Abishai, Joab, Asahel, and Amasa, on the 
previous day at his father’s house, he had made 
an agreement with them to meet them as they 
were returning from Bethlehem, and to make 
known to them the result of Jonathan’s attempt 
to make peace between David and the king. 

The six young men were mounted, each on 
his own beast, when they met the bowed figure 
of the old shepherd, and they would have passed 
him without recognizing him if he had not lifted 
his torn cap, and made a deep reverence as they 
went by. 

184 


David Stoops to Deception 185 

No one but David wore a crown of golden 
hair, and they knew him at once, and each 
reined in his beast, eager to hear the news. 

“Why hast thou stolen old Jobab’s clothes?” 
Shammah asked, laughing at the queer appear- 
ance of his brother. 

“To deceive others, as I nearly deceived you,” 
David answered. “The king has put a price 
upon my head, and has become my enemy, and 
for that reason I am going to take refuge with 
the king’s enemies at Gath. Saul will not dare 
to seek me there.” 

“Wilt thou take us with thee?” Joab asked, 
standing up in his saddle, and swinging his 
good sword with his right hand. 

“Most gladly would I take thee if I could 
offer thee aught but hunger and thirst and 
nakedness and death,” David answered, while 
the quick tears came to his eyes at the thought 
of leaving these dear ones. 

“If our good Eliab was here, he would tell 
us that a man is not fit to be a soldier who is 
afraid of those things,” Asahel answered, softly; 
for to all of the family Eliab was a saint and 
a hero now that he was dead. 

After a few more words it was decided that 
all should go, except Amasa, who did not rel- 


i86 David, the Boy Harper 

ish the prospect of a life of danger and hard- 
ship. 

‘'I am an only son,’’ he said. ‘‘I must not 
think of what I would rather do, but of what 
I ought to do. I will return to my father and 
tell him that ye have been taken prisoners, and 
that because of the swiftness of my mule I alone 
have escaped.” 

After pledging Amasa to absolute secrecy, 
the six young men turned their course towards 
the south, David riding behind his brother 
Shammah, who alone of the party was mounted 
on a horse. 

The disguise was thrown aside, as it had 
served its purpose, and the little party were 
near the city of Nob, where David intended to 
stop for rest and refreshment. None of the 
party were supplied with food, as the pack ani- 
mals, bearing a bountiful supply, were far in 
the rear when the young men met David, and 
so they were left behind. 

Nob was a small city about five miles south 
of Gibeah, and near the city of Jerusalem, 
which at that time was in the possession of the 
Jebusites. 

Fourscore and six persons wearing the linen 
ephod dwelt in the priestly city of Nob, and 


David Stoops to Deception 187 

here the sacred Ark was kept and the wor- 
ship of God maintained by Ahimelech and his 
assistants. Not thus was Ahimelech used to 
seeing the king’s son-in-law David when he 
visited the priestly city. Always before he had 
been accompanied with a detachment of his 
troops as body-guard, and his coming had been 
heralded with great pomp and ceremony. 

Now he came unattended, except by a hand- 
ful of followers, none of whom were officers. 

Ahimelech was naturally suspicious ; and 
David, seeing that the chief priest was startled 
and uneasy at his sudden appearance, was 
tempted to explain his coming by excuses and 
prevarication. 

‘^The king hath commanded me a business, 
and hath said unto me, %et no man know any- 
thing about the business whereabout I send 
thee and what I have commanded thee;’ and 
I have appointed my servants to such and 
such a place,” David said, and then he asked 
the priest to give him five loaves of bread. 
Ahimelech explained that there was no bread 
except the hallowed bread which was placed 
fresh every week upon the altar, and he hesi- 
tated to put that to common use. 

David overcame the scruples of the chief 


i88 


David, the Boy Harper 


priest, and the bread from the altar was given 
to him and his companions. 

Another reason which had prompted Da- 
vid to stop at the priestly city was to secure the 
sword of Goliath, which for years had been ly- 
ing wrapped in a cloth behind the ephod; for 
in token of his gratitude to God he had given 
it to be placed as a trophy in the sanctuary. 

David put on a bold face, and said to Ahime- 
lech : “Is there not here under thine hand spear 
or sword? for I have neither brought my sword 
nor my weapons with me, because the king’s 
business required haste.” 

And the priest answered : “The sword of Go- 
liath, the Philistine, whom thou slewest in the 
valley of Elah — behold it is here, wrapped in 
a cloth behind the ephod. If thou wilt take 
that, take it ; for there is no other save that here.” 
And David said, “There is none like that; give 
it me.” 

While the priest was unfolding the cloth 
coverings that protected the precious sword 
from dampness, a dark-visaged man came strid- 
ing into the room, and made known his er- 
rand. 

David knew him at once, but turned his 
head aside that he might avoid speaking to him; 


189 


David Stoops to Deception 

for it was no other than Doeg, Saul’s chief 
herdsman, the man whom Jobab revered as a 
greater man than Abner, the king’s chief cap- 
tain. 

‘‘He will surely tell the king,” the guilty con- 
science of David assured him; for he had for 
the first time in his life turned aside from the 
strict path of truth, and was walking in a dark 
and crooked way. 

In hot haste the young men mounted and 
rode away, and David preserved an unwonted 
silence ; for he was thinking with a secret dread 
of the bloody vengeance Saul would take upon 
the innocent priests when he found that they 
had befriended him and helped him to escape. 

He was sorry for his falsehood, and doubly 
sorry that he had stopped at Nob and thus ex- 
posed the holy men who dwelt there to the king’s 
murderous wrath. 

He tried to think of some means of saving 
them, or of warning them of their danger; but, 
alas ! he had no powerful friends who could help 
him, except Jonathan, and his influence over 
his father seemed to grow daily less. David 
could not even pray; for the consciousness of 
his sin cut him off from communion with God. 

At last the proud city of Gath came in sight. 


190 David, the Boy Harper 

Whenever David had approached it before, he 
had come at the head of King Saul’s army, as 
his son-in-law and representative. How, then, 
did he dare to throw himself into the jaws of 
the enemy? Simply because of a feud between 
the tribe of Judah and the tribe of Benjamin, 
which was of long standing, and which David 
fondly thought would cause Achish, king of 
Gath, to welcome him into the army, when he 
stated that he was a deserter from the army of 
King Saul. 

Besides, David did not expect to be known 
by the Philistines ; for he now wore a beard, 
and was unlike the ruddy youth who had killed 
their champion. 

But the sword of Goliath hung at his belt, 
and a brother of the slain giant saw and knew 
it, and thus David’s identity was discovered. 

Soon after David and his companions had 
taken up their abode in Gath, one of King 
Achish’s servants said to him: ‘Is not this Da- 
vid the king of the land? Did they not sing 
one to another of him in dances, saying, ‘Saul 
has slain his thousands, and David his ten thou- 
sands?’ ” 

This was said in David’s presence, who for 
the first time heard himself called a king; but 


David Stoops to Deception 191 

it brought him no joy, for he was sore afraid, 
and as the king looked at him sharply to see if 
his servant’s story was true, and this was in- 
deed the mighty David, he put on a look of 
vacancy, and began to drum with his fingers, 
and to drop his lower lip, as if he were a mad- 
man. 

The king laughed contemptuously at the 
credulity of his servants, and said: ‘‘Have I 
need of madmen, that ye have brought this fel- 
low to play the madman in my presence? 
Shall this fellow come into my house?” 

He was quickly hustled out of the king’s 
presence, and with his companions made haste 
to leave the unfriendly city behind him, thankful 
enough to have escaped with his life, and that 
his precious sword had not been taken away 
from him. 

Where, now, should he go? Every city was 
but a trap to inclose him within its walls until 
King Saul should have time to come and take 
him prisoner; every camp was but a collection 
of cages, within which he should be snared like 
a bird, and given up to the fowler ; even the hos- 
pitable homes of his kindred were shut against 
him for fear of the king’s anger, and he was a 
wanderer on the face of the earth. 


192 


David, the Boy Harper 


Instinctively the steps of the wanderers were 
turned towards home, but not one of them had 
lost his courage, and no one regretted that he 
had cast in his lot with the outlawed and hunted 
David. Joab had a natural gift of generalship, 
and as they halted for the night, it was he who 
suggested a plan that met with favor from all 
the others. 

They were provided with food, which David 
had bought with some of the money that Jon- 
athan had given him at parting, and in order 
to enjoy their favorite dish of parched corn, 
they built a fire of brushwood, and sat around 
it as they roasted the ears of wheat. 

‘‘This makes me think of those happy days 
in Bethlehem, when we sat at the door of the 
cave on the hillside and roasted corn,” Asahel 
said to David, who was seated beside him. 

“To-morrow we will hunt for wood pigeons 
and other game,” David said. “We shall find 
plenty in these clumps of bushes and among 
these rocks; for I have often hunted here when 
the sheep were in the southern pastures.” 

“Why can we not find some cave or deserted 
shepherd’s hut, and remain here on this lonely 
plain for days?” Joab suddenly said, after a mo- 
ment of silence. 


193 


David Stoops to Deception 

‘^There is a cave not far away, which would 
afford shelter, not only for us and for the beasts, 
but for hundreds of men,’’ David answered, 
eagerly. ‘‘There is an entrance in the face of 
the solid rock, and you can wander for hours 
through great chambers, one leading out of 
the other. Some of these are lighted by clefts 
in the overhanging rocks, and some of them 
have openings into the outer world ; so it would 
furnish a safe garrison for a regiment, if only 
my men were with me.” As he said these words, 
a sense of helplessness came over David, as he 
realized that these faithful ones were all the 
soldiers he could now command. 

“Speaking of garrisons makes me think to 
tell thee that I heard one of the Philistines say 
that they are to establish a garrison in Bethle- 
hem speedily, and that they will seize upon the 
homes and possessions of the inhabitants,” said 
Abishai, who never spoke unless he had some- 
thing to say. 

“Then we must warn our kindred,” David 
hastened to say; “for neither property nor life 
is safe where the Philistines are encamped.” 

Joab sat silent, while the bundle of wheat- 
ears he held in his hand dropped to the ground. 
At last he startled them all by springing to his 
13 


194 David, the Boy Harper 

feet and catching his sword from its scabbard, 
as he had done when he first decided to follow 
David. 

“Thy men will come if thou but give the 
word,’’ he said, in his impulsive way. “There 
are thousands of men who are weary of King 
Saul’s madness and folly, and who are only 
waiting for a leader. Let us take possession of 
the cave of which you speak, and let us first 
bring to its safe shelter all the members of the 
house of Jesse, together with the flocks and 
herds and household possessions. Then, by 
secret messengers, let us send word to all who 
are distressed, and to all who are in debt, and 
to all who are discontented, that they may join 
themselves to us.” 

This plan recommended itself to David and 
to all of his followers, and they wrapped them- 
selves in their cloaks, and lay down to sleep, 
impatient for the morrow, when these daring 
plans should be put in execution. 

David was worn with incessant travel, and 
weary with contending emotions, but he did not 
dare to sleep until by humble confession and 
heart-felt prayer he had put himself again in 
touch with God, and felt the sweet peace of sins 
forsaken and forgiven. 


XVIII 


THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 

A RADIANT summer morning dawned upon 
the world on the day following the events 
of the previous chapter. 

David and his companions were refreshed by 
slumber, and their spirits were bright with hope 
and courage. 

After a hasty breakfast, which was never the 
regular meal to which we are accustomed, but 
was rather a light lunch of bread and fruit, with 
cheese or milk, the wayfarers saddled their 
beasts, and turned their faces towards the cave 
which David had described, and which lay about 
six miles southeast of Bethlehem. 

On reaching the cave it was decided that 
Shammah should gallop on horseback to his 
father’s house, to warn the family of the impend- 
ing danger, and to make arrangements for a 
speedy moving of men, women, children, cattle, 
and household effects to the cave of Adullam. 
In a few hours he returned; for it was not safe 
for him to remain in Bethlehem, where some 


195 


196 David, the Boy Harper 

servant of King Saul might see him and report 
his presence to the king. 

He brought good news to cheer his com- 
rades in the cave. Jesse had heartily approved 
of his son’s plan, and promised to hasten his 
preparations and to be at the cave at an early 
hour on the morrow. 

In the summer, when the heat dried up the 
hill pastures, Jesse often sent his flocks south- 
ward in the care of a faithful keeper; and for 
this reason he was able to start Jobab and Selim, 
each with a flock of sheep, without attracting 
much attention or awakening suspicion. 

The watchmen at the city gate were faithful 
friends of Jesse and of all his family, and Jesse 
took them into his confidence, telling them of 
the threatened Philistine invasion, and inviting 
them to share in his exile. 

The word was secretly passed along to those 
of Jesse’s neighbors whom he felt he could 
trust, and at midnight a motley procession of 
men, women, and children, together with flocks 
and herds, and rude carts and wagons, piled 
with merchandise, might have been seen making 
their way down the hillside and into the traveled 
road that led southward toward Hebron. 

More than fourscore able-bodied men were 


The Cave of Adullam 


197 


included in the company of the refugees, and 
glad indeed was David to welcome these brave, 
hardy countrymen, who had known him from 
boyhood, and who looked up to him as a leader. 

Tents were pitched on the open plain in 
front of the cave; the wagons were placed side 
by side outside the circle of tents, as a kind of 
barricade; fires were lighted and food prepared, 
and in a very few hours the encampment began 
to take on an appearance of comfort. 

Ziba did not accompany the family of Jesse 
in their flight from Bethlehem, but chose rather 
to return to Gibeah, that he might again serve 
Jonathan, to whom he was faithfully devoted. 

Because of this devotion, Jesse did not fear 
to tell Ziba freely of David’s plans, and to com- 
mission him to tell his master how it fared with 
his friend. 

Ziba did more: he whispered the news to 
David’s comrades and friends in camp, and told 
them that David was preparing to defend him- 
self against the king. 

Whether Ziba’s message traveled secretly and 
swiftly, or whether a bird of the air carried the 
news, we can not tell; but from all parts of 
Judea armed men sprung up, as if by magic, 
and by twos and threes they made their way to 


19 ^ David, the Boy Harper 

the cave of Adullam, and offered their services 
to David. To all who came, David said: ‘Tf 
ye come peaceably imto me to help me, mine 
heart shall be knit unto you; but if ye be come 
to betray me to mine enemies, seeing there is 
no wrong in mine hands, the God of our fa- 
thers look thereon and rebuke it.” 

Among those who offered themselves to 
David a few days after he had taken up his 
abode in the stronghold of Adullam was his 
nephew, Amasa. When the vain and ambitious 
young man found that all his kindred were mak- 
ing common cause with David, and that many 
of Saul’s bravest soldiers were secretly prepar- 
ing to join his forces, he suddenly began to fear 
that he had made a mistake in refusing to share 
in his illustrious kinsman’s exile ; for, like many 
other men, he was eager to espouse an unpopu- 
lar cause when it began to receive the support 
of others. 

David saw Amasa coming with a company 
of his old comrades, and went eagerly out to 
meet and welcome them and to pledge them 
to his service with the solemn oath of obedience 
and loyalty. Amasa, who had constituted him- 
self captain and spokesman of the little band, 
placed his hand on his heart, and answered with 


The Cave of Adullam 


199 


great fervor. ‘^Thine are we, David, and on thy 
side, thou son of Jesse. Peace, peace be unto 
thee, and peace be to thy helpers; for thy God 
helpeth thee.’’ 

Such loyalty demanded a proper reward, and 
to Amasa’s great delight he was appointed cap- 
tain over a company of raw recruits, and was 
able to show his skill and military knowledge 
before their admiring eyes. 

But Abishai, Joab, and Asahel, who had 
pledged their allegiance when it cost something, 
and when David stood alone, were nearer to 
David’s heart than those who came when it be- 
gan to be the fashion. 

These were happy days, in spite of dangers 
and privations, and David often thought of the 
golden cage from which he had escaped, and 
realized that God had driven him forth from it, 
because it was proving a snare to him, and de- 
stroying his spiritual life. 

The worship of God was not neglected by 
these hardy refugees. When Saul slew the 
priests of the Lord, because they had shown 
kindness to David, Abiathar, one of the sons of 
the chief priest Ahimelech, escaped, and made 
haste to join David and to beg his protection. 

‘‘He who seeks your life seeks mine,” David 


200 


David, the Boy Harper 


told him, and Abiathar, who had brought the 
sacred symbols with him, was warmly welcomed 
in the motley camp. 

One of the prophets whom David had met 
while he remained with Samuel also joined Da- 
vid’s forces, and Gad, the prophet, a man of 
much wisdom and rare good sense, remained 
with David through all the varying scenes of 
his wandering and exile, and even after David 
was exalted to the throne was still his friend. 

Four hundred men were now enrolled in 
David’s army, with daily additions to the 
number. 

To provide food for so many men, besides 
the women and children, was no small task; 
but there was no lack or scarcity during all the 
time that they remained in the hold. 

Jesse and many others brought with them 
large stores of provisions, which were stored in 
the roomy vaults of the cavern, while the flocks 
and herds furnished an abundant supply of meat 
and milk, as well as cheese and butter. 

Besides this, the neighboring landowners 
sent large quantities of food and grain as pres- 
ents to David and his men in return for their 
services in protecting fields and vineyards from 
the ravages of the Philistines. 


The Cave of Adullam 


201 


Men, as well as women, shared in the work 
of roasting and grinding grain and preparing 
meat and vegetables for the table; and those 
who were skillful in the use of the sling or bows 
and arrows hunted the small game which 
abounded in the wilderness, and brought abun- 
dant supplies into the camp. David again played 
on his harp; for King Saul had cleared his 
daughter’s house of all David’s belongings, and 
had sent them post haste to Jesse soon after 
David’s first disappearance; and Jesse had 
brought them again to David, and at night the 
rocky cavern resounded with the voice of praise. 

Some of the men who had enlisted in Da- 
vid’s army were wild and turbulent, ‘‘whose 
teeth were spears and arrows, and their tongue 
a sharp sword,” but as David had soothed the 
disordered spirit of King Saul with his heavenly 
music, so these outlaws were subdued and 
tamed by the power of song. 

“Be thou exalted, O God, above the heavens ; 
let thy glory be above all the earth. They have 
prepared a net for my steps. My soul is bowed 
down. They have digged a pit before me, into 
the midst whereof they are fallen themselves. 
My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed. 
I will sing and give praise. Awake up, my 


202 David, the Boy Harper 

glory; awake, psaltery and harp. I myself will 
awake early.’’ These were the words of the 
evening psalm. 

One of the discomforts which the members 
of David s large household shared in common 
was a lack of cool, refreshing water for drink- 
ing purposes. 

A stream of pure water flowed near the en- 
campment, but it was open to the sun, and the 
water thus became very warm, and even when 
it was placed in earthen vessels in the coolest 
vault of the cavern it was still insipid. 

David ‘felt this privation more than any of 
the others; for he did not care for the sweet 
wine, which most of the soldiers were so fond 
of, and he found himself often longing for a 
cup of cold water from the well by the gate of 
Bethlehem. One morning, as he was standing 
with his three favorite nephews on a little ele- 
vation above the cave, and looking towards 
Bethlehem, where the Philistines were now in- 
trenched, he spoke of his longing before he 
thought what he was saying. 

that one would give me drink of the 
water of the well of Bethlehem, that is at the 
gate!” he said, more to himself than to the 
others. 


The Cave of Adullam 


203 


Quick as an arrow Abishai flew down the 
rocky steep, followed by his two brothers, and 
before David realized what they were doing, 
they had mounted their horses and gone gallop- 
ing away in the direction of Bethlehem. 

''What have I done?’’ David said, in dismay. 
"What luckless words have I spoken, to send 
my three bravest and best to certain death?” 

It was vain to follow them ; for no other horse 
was as swift as the ones they had taken, and 
David could only wait, hoping that Joab’s good 
sense would show them the folly of their hope- 
less attempt, and that he should soon see them 
riding back into camp. 

He waited impatiently, often climbing the 
cliff to look for their appearing. 

Yes, there they were, coming like the wind. 

"It is impossible that they have been to Beth- 
lehem and back in this time,” David thought, 
with a sigh of relief, while his heart swelled with 
pride and love to know that they cared enough 
for him to think of gratifying a passing wish. 

Abishai rode in front, on a beautiful black 
horse, and as he galloped into the camp he held 
proudly up a long-necked, earthen jar, filled to 
the brim with the precious water he had risked 
his life to bring. 


204 David, the Boy Harper 

“There is no water like that from the well at 
the gate,” he called out, as he held up his trophy 
in triumph. 

David’s eyes were blurred with tears. He 
could not speak at first as he took the precious 
offering from the hand of his brave and devoted 
follower. 

“Drink, honored captain and dearest friend,” 
Asahel whispered, as he bent towards him. 

“My God forbid it me, that I should do this 
thing,” David answered. “Shall I drink the 
blood of these men that have put their lives in 
jeopardy? for with the jeopardy of their lives 
they brought it.” 

As he said these words he lifted his eyes to 
heaven, and poured out the clear, sparkling water 
for a pure and priceless offering to God. 

No one felt that the water was wasted, and 
the three men, who slowly and reverently dis- 
mounted from their horses, forgot their torn 
clothing, bloodstained from many wounds; they 
forgot their pain and weariness, and kneeled be- 
side their leader, loving him and honoring him 
as they had never done before. 

No one of the three could ever tell how the 
heroic deed was done. “I remember only that I 
dipped the water from the well, and that I gave 


The Cave of Adullam 


205 


it into thy hand,” Abishai said, whenever David 
asked him about it. 

The fame of such mighty deeds as these began 
to be spread abroad, and the king alone remained 
blind to the fact that the man he had wronged 
and persecuted and tried to crush was making 
strong and powerful friends. 

Constant outbreaks on the part of the Philis- 
tines demanded the attention of King Saul, and 
accounted for the fact that he for a time seemed 
to leave David in peace. 

When the Philistines took possession of Beth- 
lehem, and many of the inhabitants were put to 
death, King Saul thought that perhaps David 
and all of his household had perished, or that 
they had been taken prisoners. 

But Jonathan knew that David was safe and 
well, and stronger even than David’s faith was 
Jonathan’s confidence that God would yet fulfill 
his promise to David, that he should be king of 
Israel. “It is enough for me to be next to such 
a man,” thought Jonathan. 


XIX 


THE JOURNEY TO MOAB 

S UMMER lingered long, as if loath to leave 
the happy dwellers in the cave of Adullam 
and in the fields which surrounded it. But at 
last the rainy season set in, and old Jobab’s 
rheumatism began to rack his joints and to make 
him long for a warm shelter. 

The cave, which was cool in summer, seemed 
warm in winter to the hardy soldiers, who slept 
on the straw on its rocky floor; but the women 
and children living in tents outside the cave be- 
gan to feel the discomforts of cold and wet. 

One morning, as David sat in his father's tent 
playing with little Jesse, his brother Ozem's baby 
boy, he found that the little fellow's fingers were 
blue with cold. 

‘‘What makes thy fingers so cold, my son?" 
he said, clasping the fat, little hands in his own 
warm palms. 

“Because I do not like to stay in bed," little 
Jesse answered. “My mother would keep me 
ever in bed, that I may be warm; but when I 
206 


The Journey to Moab 


207 


am big, I want to be one of thy soldiers, Uncle 
David, and how can I be if I stay like a baby in 
bed?” 

The little fellow squared his shoulders, and, 
catching up a staff which lay on the floor, began 
to march around the tent in true military style, 
to the great delight of his doting grandfather. 

“He is like thee in thy babyhood, David,” 
Nahash said, smiling with loving pidde as David 
caught the little rogue up on his shoulder, and 
promised to make a captain of him by and by. 

“But I did not have to stay in bed to keep 
warm,” David answered, after a little pause. 
“We must not suffer this little one and others 
who are cold to die for lack of suitable shelter.” 

“It will soon be warm again,” Jesse said, 
hopefully, but as he spoke David’s heart smote 
him as he noticed for the first time how worn 
and old his father looked. 

“Of what avail will the warmth of summer 
be, if meantime the very young and the aged 
have perished with the cold?” David asked, re- 
proaching himself that he had been so blind and 
neglectful of those he loved best, and that he had 
not sooner sought an asylum for them, until the 
days of peace should dawn in Israel. 

It had been so pleasant to David to seek 


2o 8 David, the Boy Harper 

refuge from the cares and anxieties of his un- 
certain life in this quiet home nest; for even a 
tent was home if mother and father and kindred 
were there, and Nahash had that womanly touch 
that makes home out of the scantiest materials. 

But David’s love had in it no element of self- 
ishness, and he determined to act at once in pro- 
viding a refuge for his parents. Without telling 
his men of his intentions, David set off the next 
morning, accompanied only by his three neph- 
ews, Abishai, Joab, and Asahel, together with 
Gad the prophet, on whose wisdom and knowl- 
edge of the will of God David relied. 

David’s two brothers and nephew, Amasa, 
were left in charge of the camp until the little 
company returned. 

Straight towards the east, toward the sun’s 
rising, David led the way, riding on a spirited 
horse, and followed by his companions. When 
the Dead Sea was reached the men dismounted 
and rested for a season, afterward turning their 
horses’ heads towards the south, and following 
the shores of the Dead Sea until they reached 
the land of Moab, on the third day after leaving 
home. 

Not until the five men began to climb the 
heights of Mizpeh in Moab, and its stone forti- 


The Journey to Moab 209 

fications loomed before them, did David explain 
his coming. Then he said: “I am very bold, 
good friends, in seeking thus an audience with 
the king of Moab, and I know not whether he 
will receive us peaceably; but trusting in our 
kinship with Ruth, the rose of Moab, about 
whom we have heard our father Jesse speak, I 
have brought you into this danger with me. As 
for the prophet of God, there is no danger for 
him, even in hostile camps.” 

“We are with thee, David, for life or for 
death,” Abishai said, and David knew that these 
words were no idle boast. 

At the city gates David boldly asked to be 
conducted to the king’s palace, giving as a reason 
the fact that he wished to establish his kinship 
with an old and honored family in Moab. 

The king received him with kindly courtesy, 
and to David’s surprise showed an acquaintance 
with the facts concerning David’s ancestry, for 
the news of the young hero’s exploits had 
reached Moab, and the fact that some of the 
blood of Moab flowed in his veins was already 
known. 

After a few words of introduction and com- 
pliment, David made known his errand. He 
wished to ask of the king permission to bring his 


14 


210 David, the Boy Harper 

aged parents, with some of their children and 
servants, to abide in the land of Moab until peace 
reigned again in Israel. 

David painted in a few eloquent words the 
hardships and dangers to which the members of 
his father’s household were exposed, and ex- 
plained that the Philistines had taken possession 
of the houses and lands of his father in Bethle- 
hem, and that the rigors of war had driven his 
family from their landed inheritance. 

The desired permission was given, and the 
king of Moab begged to be allowed to put one 
of his palaces in readiness to receive the honored 
guests. He also insisted that David and his 
nephews should come prepared to make an ex- 
tended visit when they should return with the 
household of Jesse. 

At the king’s urgent invitation the prophet 
Gad remained a guest in Mizpeh of Moab, while 
David and his three companions turned their 
faces homeward, well pleased with the success 
of their journey. 

To be with his three loved friends, away from 
the restraints of the camp, was such a joy to 
David, that he entered into the wild, free life of 
the desert with the zest of a boy, and rode races 
with Asahel, threw spears with Joab, and 


The Journey to Moab 21 1 

matched swords with Abishai during the three 
days' journey homeward. 

“What thinkest thou our men will say if we 
make a long sojourn in the land of Moab?" 
David asked of Abishai, as they neared the cave 
of Adullam. 

“If they have plenty to eat and to drink, and 
plenty to do, they will do well," Abishai an- 
swered. 

“We will appoint them tasks of tunneling in 
the cave, and in building huts and sheepcotes," 
David answered, will pleased with Abishai's an- 
swer. 

Exciting events had occurred during the short 
absence of David and his companions. Winter 
had driven the lions and bears back to their win- 
ter quarters in the caves that abounded in the 
neighboring limestone cliffs, and a fierce lion 
had come boldly into the camp at night, and had 
greatly frightened the women and children. 
Benaiah, a brave and valiant man who had killed 
two lion-like men of Moab, went out after the 
savage beast, and after forcing him into a pit, 
into which the snow had drifted, he killed him 
with his spear. 

This only hastened David in his preparations 
necessary to a departure into the land of Moab 


212 David, the Boy Harper 

with his father’s family, Nethaneel, Raddai, and 
Ozem, the three brothers of David, who had 
always remained with their father, and whose 
tastes and habits of life unfitted them for war, 
decided to accompany their father to Moab, tak- 
ing their wives and little ones with them; and 
Zeruiah and Abigail, the daughters of Jesse, who 
had taken refuge in their father’s house during 
the stormy times of the past few years, were per- 
suaded by their sons to seek the safer shelter of 
a foreign land. 

Jobab did not need any urging to undertake 
the journey when he found that Jesse was going, 
for his flock of sheep had dwindled as the 
younger animals had been taken for food, and 
the old man realized at last that his shepherd 
days were over. 

‘‘I have always wanted to see the land of 
Moab,” Jobab said one evening to David, as they 
were making plans for the journey in Jesse’s tent, 
where Jobab spent much of his time, because it 
was warmer than his shepherd’s hut. ‘‘I remem- 
ber well how thy great-grandmother Ruth spoke 
of the blue skies and soft air of her native land. 
Perhaps I can throw this staff on which I lean 
away, when once I reach the land of Moab.” 

Selim longed to go, because his young wife. 


The Journey to Moab 213 

Nethaneers daughter, was going with her grand- 
parents; but he knew that he was needed to 
guard the flocks that remained, and that duty 
commanded him to stay. 

He remembered the day when David had 
dried his tears, and had promised to be a brother 
to him; and so, after accompanying the little 
caravan a day’s journey he turned back to take 
up his duties again. 

He thought sadly, as he journeyed slowly 
back to the camp, of his master’s fallen fortunes, 
and wondered what would become of the family 
if the king of Moab should become weary of 
exercising hospitality, and should turn Jesse and 
his sons out into the cold world. 

Poor Selim, if he could have looked forward a 
few short months and have seen the immense 
flock of three thousand sheep, and the goodly 
flock of goats, one thousand in number, that 
David’s rich and beautiful wife was to bring him, 
he would have avoided taking anxious thought 
of the morrow. 

Meanwhile the travelers were making their 
leisurely way to the land of Moab. It was a new 
and thrilling experience to Jesse and his family, 
none of whom had ever been a score of miles 
away from home before. 


214 


David, the Boy Harper 


Nahash, who rode on a sure-footed and sober- 
minded little donkey, could hardly keep her seat 
on the animahs back, so unused was she to rid- 
ing; but whenever the road was rough, David 
dismounted from his horse and walked beside 
his mother, with his arm about her to keep her 
from falling, and in this way the journey was 
safely and pleasantly made. 

Mizpeh of Moab came in sight at last, and as 
the watcher in the tower by the gate looked out 
and saw the travelers coming he announced the 
fact to the king of Moab, who came out in per- 
son to meet and to welcome his invited guests. 

For a present, Jesse had brought some of the 
costly garments and jewels that Saul had given 
him soon after David had gained the victory 
over Goliath. 

David’s offering was the chain of heavy gold 
and the jeweled girdle which the king had be- 
stowed upon him in days when he had basked 
in the royal favor. 

These gifts were worthy of a king, and helped 
to make the welcome to the beautiful palace, 
which had been made ready for the guests, more 
cordial and sincere. 

Little Jesse’s fingers no longer ached with the 
cold, for the weather was mild, and soft carpets 


The Journey to Moab 215 

and curtains added comfort and luxury to the 
spacious apartments. 

In seeking this safe asylum for his parents, 
David had no thought of self, and but for the 
demands of Oriental etiquette he would have re- 
turned at once to his companions at the cave of 
Adullam. 

But Abishai, Joab, and Asahel had remained 
in camp, and had underaken to maintain order 
and discipline while David was away; and they 
were respected and honored by the troops, so 
there was little danger of mutiny or desertion 
if David’s absence was prolonged. 

It was David’s nature to live in the present 
like a child, and these months of rest from hard- 
ships and constant anxiety restored his health 
and spirits, which had suffered somewhat from 
the gloomy life in the cave. 

He talked with Jobab about the happy old 
days at home, and delighted the old shepherd 
by listening patiently to stories of exploits which 
he already knew by heart. He played with little 
Jesse, and taught him to go through a manual 
of arms with wooden swords and spears, and with 
bows and arrows. 

^‘If thou art to be my chief captain thou must 
early learn to handle the spear and sword,” David 


2i 6 David, the Boy Harper 

said, and little Jesse^s black eyes sparkled as he 
marched sturdily up and down. 

‘‘He is like his Uncle Eliab in his desire to be 
a soldier,’’ Nahash said, as she watched him 
throwing his wooden spear into the air and 
catching it again. 

David visited the scribes and keepers of deeds 
and family records, and to his delight found a 
kinsman in the land of Moab. This kinsman 
traced his descent from Eglon, king of Moab, so 
it was firmly established that royal blood flowed 
in David’s veins; but David’s royalty was not 
derived from any earthly monarch. 

So much praise and honor were heaped upon 
the young warrior, that he was in danger of 
being spoiled by flattery. Banquets were given 
in his name; young princes and nobles came to 
him, begging him to show them the sword of 
Goliath, which was his constant companion from 
the day when he recovered it from Ahimelech 
the priest, and beautiful maidens danced before 
him and recited his praises. 

At last the prophet Gad, who was pained by 
all this life of worldly pomp and magnificence, 
came to David when he was alone, and told him 
that it had been revealed to him that the will of 
God was that David should not remain longer in 


The Journey to Moab 


217 


the stronghold of the king of Moah, but should 
return to his brethren of the house of Judah. 

David never thought of questioning or oppos- 
ing the will of God, and at once begged leave of 
the king of Moab to return to his own land. 

This leave was reluctantly given, and David 
and Gad the prophet were soon ready to go. 

Jesse prepared a banquet as a farewell offer- 
ing to his son, and the new-found kinsman with 
his family were invited to share it. David found 
it easier to leave his kindred in a land of stran- 
gers, now that he felt sure of the powerful pro- 
tection of one who was bound to them by ties 
of blood. 

But in spite of efforts to be cheerful, a cloud 
rested down over the festal banquet. David kept 
close to his mother’s side, with the little Jesse 
asleep in his arms. He felt, he knew not why, 
that he should never see his parents again, for 
they were old, and Jesse’s bent form and white 
face proclaimed that he was not well, though in 
his silent way he never complained. 

“The God of our fathers go with thee and 
keep thee, my son,” were Jesse’s parting words, 
while Nahash could only cling to her youngest- 
born and weep. 


XX 


DAVID’S AND JONATHAN’S LAST MEETING 

W HEN David returned from Moab to the 
land of Judah, he did not join his com- 
panions at the cave of Adullam, but instead chose 
the forest of Hareth for his temporary home. Its 
quiet and leafy retreats seemed to of¥er a much 
pleasanter home for the summer than the gloomy 
cavern, and a cool and most delicious spring of 
water gushed from a rock and filled a pebbly 
pool, that overflowed like a crystal cup. 

David and the prophet Gad had simply 
stopped to rest for the night in this sylvan shade ; 
but its quiet beauty had so appealed to David’s 
homesick spirit that he decided to send a mes- 
sage to his troops, bidding them to join him in 
the forest. 

The prophet Gad carried the message, for the 
distance between the forest and the cave was not 
great, and before night David was again sur- 
rounded by his faithful troops. 

There were more than six hundred men in 
David’s army at this time ; but the women and 
218 


David and Jonathan 


219 


children had been sent to places of safety, so that 
the home-like element was lacking in the en- 
campment, and the men were growing restive 
and impatient for something to do. 

A part of the forest where the trees were 
.small and scanty was chosen in which to pitch 
the tents, and the rank and file of the soldiers 
were content with a bed of boughs under the 
open sky. 

The gloom and discontent which had envel- 
oped the dwellers in the cave of Adullam during 
David’s long absence was dispelled by the cheer- 
ful activity of the new life and the inspiring pres- 
ence of their beloved leader. 

The hunting was good, for game was abun- 
dant in the forest, and the bill of fare, which had 
become rather monotonous, now that there were 
only men cooks, became more varied and at- 
tractive. 

Neighboring farmers still gave liberal supplies 
of food whenever David sent messengers to 
them, and that summer in the forest passed very 
quickly and pleasantly away. 

This was by no means lost time, for daily drills 
and constant military practice kept the soldiers 
in training, and experience in leadership helped 
to mold and discipline those brave captains and 


220 David, the Boy Harper 

mighty men, who were to be the pride and glory 
of David’s long and brilliant reign. 

One day a messenger from one of the great 
landowners, who had so liberally given of his 
abundance for the support of David’s army, came 
riding into camp, with the news that the Philis- 
tines had attacked the city of Keilah, and that 
they were robbing the threshing-floors of his 
master and of the neighboring farmers. 

David’s first impulse was to give an immediate 
order to his troops to go to the rescue of the 
besieged city. But first he must inquire of the 
Lord, and find out if God’s will was for him 
to go. 

Abiathar, the priest, had brought with him 
from the city of Nob the sacred breastplate, worn 
by the high priest, on which were twelve precious 
stones, for the twelve tribes of Israel. There 
were also two stones, clear as diamonds, which 
were called the Urim and Thummim, and if these 
stones glowed with brilliant luster when the 
priest inquired of God, it was believed that God 
answered ^^Yes,” while a dimming of their luster 
meant ‘‘No.” The precious stones shone out like 
flame when the question in regard to helping the 
city of Keilah was asked, and David at once de- 
cided to go. 


David and Jonathan 


221 


To his surprise an unexpected obstacle arose. 
The troops, who for many months had rusted in 
inaction, were afraid to go. ‘‘Behold, we be 
afraid here in Judah: how much more, then, if 
we come to Keilah against the armies of the 
Philistines?” they said. Then David saw he had 
made a mistake in allowing his men to remain so 
long in the cave of Adullam. They had felt a 
security in that natural fortress, whose walls no 
spear or arrow could pierce, and whose winding 
ways and secret entrance and exits none knew 
but themselves. 

So to make sure of God’s will, David inquired 
again of the Lord, and again the answer came, 
clear and plain, “Go, for I will deliver the Philis- 
tines into thine hand.” * 

David would have gone, even if he had been 
obliged to go alone after receiving this direct 
command; but his brothers and nephews, as well 
as his chief captains and leaders, were eager to 
go, for they were ashamed of the cowardice of 
the men. 

A speedy and brilliant victory restored the 
courage of all, and David’s troops put the invad- 
ing Philistines to flight, and seized their cattle 
and other possessions, as was the custom of war 
in those days. 


222 David, the Boy Harper 

The gates of the city of Keilah swung wide 
open to receive the victorious army who had de- 
fended them from their enemies, and for the first 
time since the little band had gathered around 
David they were lodged in comfortable houses 
in a walled city. 

David poured out his soul in thanksgiving 
to God as he sang, “Blessed be the Lord, for he 
hath showed me his marvelous kindness in a 
strong city.” 

The news of this victory soon reached Saul, 
who had heard rumors of David’s exploits before, 
but had been unable to verify these rumors, or 
to discover the hiding-place of his enemy. 

When Saul heard that David was in Keilah, 
he said: ‘“God hath delivered him into mine 
hand : for he is shut in by entering into a town 
that hath gates and bars.” 

Saul was not the first man to think that God 
is doing what he himself wants done; but if he 
could have heard David singing the psalm he 
composed in Keilah he would have been less 
confident. 

“In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust ; let me 
never be ashamed ; deliver me in thy righteous- 
ness. Bow down thine ear to me, deliver me 
speedily: be thou my strong rock, for an house 


David and Jonathan 


223 


of defense to save me. Pull me out of the net 
that they have laid privily for me; for thou art 
my strength.” There was no fear in David’s 
heart with such a song as this on his lips. 

Jonathan, as soon as he found out his father’s 
purpose to entrap David, sent a secret messenger 
to warn him of his danger. 

It was not because David trusted in the faith 
and promises of the men of Keilah that he felt 
such a strong confidence of protection and safety, 
for he knew that their first flush of gratitude and 
loyalty to him was fast wearing away, and that 
he could not depend on them in an emergency. 

Again he inquired of the Lord, “Shall I stay 
or go?” and again the answer came, clear and 
plain, “Go, for the men of Keilah will deliver 
thee up,” and again David became a wanderer, 
fleeing from the face of Saul. Some of David’s 
men returned to the cave of Adullam; some to 
the forest of Hareth ; while others clung to Da- 
vid, and with him took up their abode in a moun- 
tain in the wilderness of Ziph. This retreat was 
so protected by its natural fortifications, and its 
remoteness from the dwellings of man, that 
David knew he would be in comparative safety 
there. Hate could not scale those sharp rocks 
in the wilderness of Ziph, but love could. 


224^ David, the Boy Harper 

Jonathan, who had not met his beloved David 
since that sorrowful morning when he had bid- 
den him good-bye in the field just outside the 
city of Gibeah, was now not far away. He had 
come with his father, not to take David, but, if 
possible, to save him. 

The trusty messenger, who more than once 
had carried loving messages between the two 
friends, came to Jonathan in the early evening, 
and told him that David was less than an hour’s 
journey away. 

As soon as the camp was wrapped in sleep, 
Jonathan arose, and taking the messenger with 
him for a guide, set out on foot to discover his 
friend’s hiding-place. Stepping softly, that they 
might not awaken the sleeping troops, they made 
their way through the thick darkness of a starless 
night. Up, up they climbed, drawing themselves 
upward sometimes on their hands and knees. 

They followed no path, they lighted no lamp, 
but trusted to the sense of feeling in making their 
way, for they had learned from the messenger 
that on the mountain-top was a level spot where 
David’s tent was pitched. 

It was almost midnight when they reached the 
summit of the mountain, and David was asleep 
in his tent. 


David and Jonathan 


225 


The watchful guards at once challenged the 
intruders; but a few whispered words showed 
them that all was well, and Jonathan was per- 
mitted to go alone into the tent of his friend. 

A lamp was burning dimly at the extreme end 
of the tent, and at David’s head, as he lay asleep 
on a pile of skins, his spear stood upright to 
show that even in sleep he was ready to meet his 
enemies, and to protect himself against them. 
How pale, and yet how pure and brave, his face 
looked as he lay asleep ! Hot tears ran down his 
brother Jonathan’s cheeks, as he looked upon his 
friend. He threw himself down beside David, 
and covered his pale face with kisses. ‘‘David, 
my brother, awake!” he whispered, as he threw 
his arms about him, and lifted him up. 

Joy never kills, and the rosy hue of health and 
life came back to David’s face as he looked once 
more into those true eyes. 

“I never doubted thee, beloved,” David whis- 
pered, as Jonathan made haste to explain why 
he haa never visited him before. 

“Fear not, for the hand of Saul, my father, 
shall not find thee: and thou shalt be king over 
Israel, and I shall be next unto thee; and that 
also Saul, my father, knoweth.” With these and 
many other kind and loving words, Jonathan 
15 


226 David, the Boy Harper 

cheered and strengthened the sorrowing spirit 
of David. 

After renewing the solemn covenant which 
they had made so long before, the two friends 
said farewell, with husky voice and streaming 
eyes, for though Jonathan spoke so hopefully of 
the days when David should be king, and he 
should be prime minister, both knew that the 
immediate future was full of deadly perils for 
both, and that they might never meet again. 

With careful steps Jonathan and his attendant 
made their uncertain way down the steep hill- 
side, after Jonathan had given David a bag of 
gold and jewels, which he felt his friend might 
need, and by a happy chance their absence from 
the camp was never known. 

Saul would never have discovered David in 
the rocky fastnesses in which he had intrenched 
himself, if it had not been for the treachery of the 
men of Ziph, who hoped to curry favor with the 
king by betraying David. 

Saul had given up the pursuit, and had gone 
back to Gibeah, when the men of Ziph came in 
haste, and said to the king: ‘‘Doth not David 
hide himself with us, in strongholds in the wood, 
in the hill of Hachilah, which is on the south of 
Jeshimon? Now, therefore, O king, come down, 


David and Jonathan 


227 


according to all the desire of thy soul to come 
down ; and our part shall be to deliver him into 
the king’s hand.” 

As Saul had hypocritically given God the 
glory when the men of Keilah had offered to 
betray David into his hands, so he now breaks 
forth into pious exclamations, wholly at variance 
with his evil and murderous designs. 

‘‘Blessed be ye of the Lord !” is Saul’s grati- 
fied response to this cowardly proposal, “for ye 
have compassion on me. Go, I pray you,” he 
continued, “prepare ye, and know and see his 
place where his haunt is, and who hath seen him 
there, and come again to me with the certainty, 
and I will go with you.” 

After a few more commands and cautions, 
Saul sent the men of Ziph away, with promises of 
a reward for their dastardly conduct, a reward 
which they never received ; for before they 
reached the heights of the mountain the eagle 
had flown, and their journey to Gibeah availed 
them nothing. 

From Ziph to Maon, from Maon to En-gedi, 
and from En-gedi to the wilderness of Paran, 
David journeyed, staying only a short time in 
each place for fear of pursuit and capture. 

A handful of his most faithful soldiers sur- 


228 David, the Boy Harper 

rounded him constantly, and shared in his 
dangers,^ foremost among whom were his two 
brothers and four nephews. 

The larger part of David’s troops were still 
in the cave of Adullam, waiting with what pa- 
tience they could for a summons from their 
leader to join him, for their presence now could 
only hinder him. 

The game of hide-and-seek, which David and 
Saul were engaging in, was brought to a sudden 
stop by a messenger, who came to Saul and said, 
‘‘Haste thee and come, for the Philistines have 
invaded the land.” 

There was no time now for Saul to satisfy his 
personal grudges, with the enemy at his gates, 
and he was forced to turn back in haste to the 
royal city, that he might consult with Abner and 
plan some means of defense against the Philis- 
tines. 

Unhappy king, beset by foes without and 
within, perversely shutting his ears against the 
loving and wise counsel of his godly son, and of 
his first and best friend, Samuel, and listening 
rather to the plottings and whisperings of the 
meanest of his people, and to the suggestions of 
the evil spirit, whom he had welcomed to his 
heart ! 


XXI 


DARK DAYS AND BRIGHT 

O N the western shores of the salt sea, in the 
southern part of Judah, the city of En-gedi 
nestled among ragged rocks and beetling clififs, 
that protected it from the outside world. Here 
the wild goats played among the rocks and the 
wild grapes grew on the natural terraces. On 
the level plain, on which the city was built, long 
lines of palm-trees shaded the narrow streets, and 
balsam-trees added their welcome shade and 
healing perfume. 

Among the rocks of the wild goats, David and 
his men set up their tents, and the natural re- 
sources of the hills afforded them an abundance 
of food. 

The inhabitants of En-gedi were not un- 
friendly ; but one of the self-appointed spies who 
had been baffled in his attempt to betray David 
into the hands of Saul while he was in the wilder- 
ness of Ziph, had followed him to his new hiding- 
place, and made haste to inform King Saul that 
David was at En-gedi. 


229 


230 David, the Boy Harper 

Saul hastily chose three thousand men of the 
flower of his army, and set out for the hiding- 
place of his enemy. Along the side of the rocky 
hill where David was encamped a series of caves, 
which were used for sheepcotes, formed a regular 
honeycomb, many of the cells of which opened 
into each other. 

Here David and his men spent much of their 
time exploring the winding ways that led, like a 
spiral staircase, to the very top of the hill, under 
which the caves were found. 

One day as David and his followers were re- 
turning from one of these exploring expeditions 
into the heart of the earth, the light that shone 
into the mouth of the cave a hundred yards away 
revealed a sight that hushed the voices of the 
refugees, and made them draw back in uncer- 
tainty and terror. 

The king stood in the entrance, while his men 
clustered around the mouth of the cave on the 
outside. 

‘‘Shall we smite him?” David’s followers whis- 
pered, as they saw the king alone in the cave. 
“One quick blow, and then we could flee along 
this winding path that leads to the very shores 
of the salt sea,” Joab whispered in David’s ear. 

“I can not lift my hand against the Lord’s 


Dark Days and Bright 


231 


anointed/’ David whispered in return, as he 
turned his head away into the darkness. 

‘‘It is the day which the Lord has promised 
thee, when he said, Behold, I will deliver thine 
enemy into thine hand, that thou mayest do to 
him as it shall seem good unto thee,” the prophet 
Gad hastened to assure David. 

Half persuaded, David rose from the side of 
the cave, where he and his men had hidden them- 
selves at the first sight of their pursuers, and with 
his sword in his hand advanced cautiously to- 
wards the unsuspecting king. 

The king’s face was towards the mouth of the 
cave, and David saw only the black hair streaked 
with gray, and the broad shoulders, over which 
the long cloak of royal purple embroidered with 
gold negligently hung. 

The robe hung in rich, heavy folds, and David 
caught a portion that lay upon the ground in his 
hands, and an almost irresistible impulse to kiss 
the hem of the king’s garment in love and loyalty 
came over him. 

Instead he silently severed the portion of the 
robe which he held in his hand with his sword, 
and crept back into the darkness with remorseful 
tears in his eyes. 

“Didst thou smite him to the earth?” his anx- 


232 David, the Boy Harper 

lous men whispered as he rejoined them, and 
they saw his sword wrapped in a piece of the 
king’s royal robe. 

‘‘The Lord forbid that I should do this thing 
unto my master, the Lord’s anointed, to stretch 
forth mine hand against him, seeing he is the 
anointed of the Lord,” David answered, and the 
swords that each man carried uplifted were low- 
ered and put again into their scabbards. 

“I must see the king’s face,” David said, after 
Saul had gone out of the cave without knowing 
that any one besides himself had been within it. 

“Stay ye within,” David commanded his fol- 
lowers, who obeyed reluctantly, for no cowardly 
souls beat in the bosoms of these mighty men, 
who shared David’s exile. 

“My lord, the king!” David cried, as he 
looked after the retreating forms of Saul and his 
captains. At the sound of that voice, clear and 
ringing as a silver bell, Saul turned and saw 
David bowing to the earth in loving reverence. 

“Wherefore hearest thou men’s words, say- 
ing, Behold, David seeketh thy hurt? Behold, 
this day thine eyes have seen how that the Lord 
had delivered thee to-day into mine hand in the 
cave, and some bade me kill thee; but mine eye 
spared thee, and I said, I will not put forth mine 


Dark Days and Bright 


233 


hand against my lord, for he is the Lord’s 
anointed. Moreover, my father, see, yea, see the 
skirt of thy robe in my hand: for in that I cut 
off the skirt of thy robe, and killed thee not, 
know thou and see that there is neither evil nor 
transgression in mine hand, and I have not 
sinned against thee, yet thou huntest my soul to 
take it. The Lord judge between thee and me, 
and the Lord avenge me of thee, but mine hand 
shall not be upon thee.” 

As David poured these burning words out of 
a full soul the king’s heart was melted, and he 
began to weep as he cried out, “Is this tliy voice, 
my son David?” 

As soon as Saul could speak for weeping, he 
said : “Thou art more righteous than I ; for thou 
hast rewarded me good, whereas I have re- 
warded thee evil. And thou hast showed this 
day how that thou hast dealt well with me ; for- 
asmuch as when the Lord had delivered me into 
thine hand, thou killedst me not. For if a man 
find his enemy, will he let him go well away? 
wherefore the Lord reward thee good, for that 
thou hast done unto me this day. And now, 
behold, I know well that thou shalt surely be 
king, and that the kingdom of Israel shall be 
esablished in thine hand. Swear now, therefore. 


234 


David, the Boy Harper 


unto me by the Lord, that thou wilt not cut off 
my seed after me, and that thou wilt not destroy 
my name out of my father’s house.” 

David gave the king his solemn promise, and 
Saul and his men returned to Gibeah, leaving 
David and his men in undisturbed possession of 
the hill of the wild goats. 

Soon after this, Samuel, the aged judge, died 
in Ramah, and all Israel wept and mourned for 
him. David would gladly have joined the mourn- 
ers around the grave of his honored friend; 
but he dared not trust himself in the king’s pres-, 
ence, in spite of his tears and promises, for he 
knew the king’s fitful, wayward temper, and that 
the evil spirit was not yet cast out of his heart. 

But if David dared not seek the king, he felt 
a greater security against pursuit than he had 
done for a long time, for he knew that as Abner 
and King Saul’s captains had heard the king’s 
covenant with him, the king for his oath’s sake 
would not again bring his troops against him, 
until some new charge against him should seem 
to justify such action. 

There was no longer any need of sharing the 
wild goats’ hiding-places, and the great body of 
David’s soldiers were impatiently waiting to be 
summoned again to their master’s side ; so David, 


Dark Days and Bright 


235 


in council with his closest friends, decided to take 
up again the old, free life on the plains among 
the shepherds and farmers, who were always glad 
of the protection which a body of armed men 
afforded them. 

Nearly all the great landowners were his 
friends, and always honored his requests for food 
or shelter; but one very rich man whose pos- 
sessions were in Carmel, about six miles south- 
east of Hebron, was too important in his own 
eyes to need help from any but his own servants. 

His name was Nabal, and when we say that 
he was rich, and surly, and selfish, we have said 
all. Three thousand sheep fed on the slopes of 
the hills surrounding Carmel, and one thousand 
goats yielded milk and meat for Nabal’s large 
household. Rich vineyards surrounded his 
house, and waving fields of grain assured an 
abundance of bread. 

The mistress of such a home ought to have 
been happy; but the beautiful Abigail, who was 
very much younger than her surly lord, often 
shed tears of shame and sorrow as she realized 
the character of the man who had bought her 
from her parents, and who took no pains to make 
her life happy or comfortable. 

David and his men had been like a wall of pro- 


236 


David, the Boy Harper 


tection to Nabal’s shepherds for many days, until 
at last a lad brought the news that the shearers 
were at the house of Nabal, waiting to shear the 
sheep. The shepherds gathered the flocks to- 
gether, and at once took their way to the rich 
man’s house. With them David sent ten of his 
young men, saying to them : ‘‘Get ye up to Car- 
mel, and go to Nabal, and greet him in my 
name. And thus shall ye say to him that liveth 
in prosperity. Peace be both to thee, and peace 
be to thine house, and peace be unto all that thou 
hast. And now I have heard that thou hast 
shearers; now thy shepherds, which were with 
us, we hurt them not, neither was there aught 
missing unto them all the while they were in 
Carmel. Ask thy young men, and they will 
show thee. Wherefore let the young men find 
favor in thine eyes ; for we come in a good day ; 
give, I pray thee, whatsoever cometh to thine 
hand unto thy servants, and to thy son David.” 
This very message usually brought immediate 
and grateful recognition of services done, and 
liberal rewards in money and food; but Nabal 
was generous only with himself, and he did not 
propose to waste his substance on nameless ad- 
venturers. 

“Who is David, and who is the son of Jesse?” 


Dark Days and Bright 


237 


he growled, while he wrinkled up his fat face into 
a scowl. ‘'There be many servants nowadays 
that break away every man from his master. 
Shall I then take my bread, and my water, and 
my flesh that I have killed for my shearers, and 
give it unto men whom I know not whence 
they be?’’ 

The young men carried the ungracious mes- 
sage back to David, and David gave immediate 
orders to four hundred of his men to gird on 
their swords and march with him to avenge this 
deadly insult. 

After the young men had gone, Nabal’s serv- 
ants conferred together as to what should be 
done to counteract the evil treatment which their 
master had accorded David’s servants, for they 
knew the young warrior too well to think that 
such an afifront would go unpunished. They 
dared not complain to Nabal ; but experience had 
taught them that Abigail had not only a kind 
heart, but a clever woman’s tact. 

So one of the servants went to Abigail’s apart- 
ments and told her: “Behold, David sent mes- 
sengers out of the wilderness to salute our mas- 
ter, and he railed on them. But the men were 
very good unto us, and we were not hurt, neither 
missed we anything, as long as we were con- 


238 David, the Boy Harper 

versant with them, when we were in the fields. 
They were a wall unto us, both by night and day, 
all the while we were with them keeping the 
sheep. Now, therefore, know and consider what 
thou wilt do, for evil is determined against our 
master and against all his household, for he is 
such a son of Belial that a man can not speak 
to him.’^ 

Abigail did not resent this description of her 
husband; she knew it was too true, so without 
consulting with him she hastily made her plans 
to conciliate the young hero, whose exploits 
were all familiar to her, and for whom she had 
the sincerest admiration, although she had never 
seen him. 

Two hundred loaves of bread were quickly 
packed in baskets, two bottles of wine, hold- 
ing each about ten gallons, five sheep ready 
dressed, five measures of parched corn, a hun- 
dred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes 
of figs. These were slung across the backs of 
pack animals, while the brave and beautiful wo- 
man herself rode on a knowing-looking little 
beast, with saddle and coverings of gay em- 
broidery. 

The servants hurried the animals to the top 
of their speed; but just as they came to the foot 


Dark Days and Bright 239 

of a long hill Abigail saw David and his men 
coming down the hill to meet her. As they came 
near she alighted from the saddle, and bowed 
herself to the earth at the feet of David. ‘‘Hear 
the words of thine handmaid,” she said, as she 
joined her hands together, and, still kneeling, 
raised her beautiful eyes to David’s face. “Let 
not my lord, I pray thee, regard this man of 
Belial, even Nabal : for as his name is, so is he. 
Nabal is his name, and folly is with him; but I, 
thine handmaid, saw not the young men of my 
lord, whom thou didst send.” 

Without waiting for David to answer, Abigail 
went on explaining her husband’s churlish be- 
havior, and interlarding her remarks with many 
delicate compliments and allusions to David’s 
famous exploits and achievements. 

At last she pointed to the laden beasts, and 
begged David to accept her little present, if not 
for himself, at least for the use of the young men 
who followed him. 

The young warrior’s anger melted away, as 
the light snow on his native hills had so often 
melted before the morning sun. He could not 
permit this young and beautiful woman to kneel 
in the dust while he remained on horseback, and 
flinging himself to the ground he lifted her up, 


240 David, the Boy Harper 

and assured her that her friendly mission was 
appreciated by him, and that for her sake he 
would spare her unworthy and ungracious hus- 
band. 

Was it a spice of womanly coquetry that made 
Abigail say before turning back towards her 
home, ‘‘When the Lord shall have dealt well 
with my lord, then remember thine handmaid?” 

If so, it was a needless hint, for David, who 
was always captivated by beauty, especially in 
those of the other sex, was not likely to forget 
the modest woman who had shown him how 
much she admired and honored him. 

When Abigail reached home the drunken 
feast that always accompanied the shearing-time 
was at full height, and she kept to her own 
apartments until her husband was himself again. 
Then she told him the danger which had threat- 
ened him, and of her successful attempt to make 
peace with David and his followers. 

He was moody and miserable after his night 
of debauchery, and the words of his wife, kind 
though they were, sent a chill over him that 
made him shiver and shrink, as if a cold blast 
had blown over him. 

This chill was the beginning of a serious ill- 
ness, which was hopeless from the beginning. 


Dark Days and Bright 


241 


and in ten days the rich man died, with no one 
to shed one tear that he was gone. 

Abigail cared for him as if he had been the 
kindest husband in the world; but as soon as 
he was dead, and she realized that he could never 
scold or swear at her again, a feeling of relief 
came over her, and she felt like a prisoner whose 
prison doors had flown open. 

Without waiting for a formal period of 
mourning, which David knew would be but a 
farce, he sent messengers to Abigail, reminding 
her of his promise to remember her, and asking 
her to become his wife. 

With five of her maids she set out and came 
to David as he waited in camp, and without wait- 
ing for a costly wedding, which she as a rich 
widow might have insisted upon, she became his 
true and loving wife, a wife as pious and sensible 
as she was amiable and beautiful. 

16 


XXII 


TO MOAB AND BACK 

D AVID’S tent was his home, and when his 
wife delicately suggested that there was 
room in the spacious mansion and court yards 
of her country residence for him and all his men, 
he explained to her kindly that for his soldiers’ 
sakes he must not permit them to lose their 
strength and courage in a life of idleness. 

''Thou art a soldier’s bride,” he said, lovingly, 
looking into her dark, glowing eyes, "and I can 
not take a year’s exemption from military duty 
for thy sake, as I did for the daughter of the 
king, but thou art more precious to me than the 
daughter of a hundred kings could be.” 

This was more than a lover’s compliment; it 
was the truth, for in Abigail David found what 
he had never found in his first marriage, a wo- 
man who loved him more than herself, and who 
sympathized with him in his most sacred inter- 
ests, his love for God and for his kindred. 

The honeymoon passed like a happy dream to 
Abigail, who found more joy in the rude life of 

242 


To Moab and Back 


243 


the camp than she had ever known in her hus- 
band's palace at Maon, or even in her child- 
hood's home at Carmel. 

David was also very happy, for in Abigail 
he found the womanly sympathy for which he 
had unconsciously longed. He told her of his 
parents and kindred who were still in the land 
of Moab ; he made her laugh over old Jobab's 
timeworn jokes, and brought the ready tears to 
her eyes when he told her of his perils and hair- 
breadth escapes from the king's jealous fury. 

Every week David and Abigail rode from the 
camp to the home in Carmel, which now be- 
longed to Abigail, as it had been her father’s 
possession, and she had no brothers, and always 
as they came to the foot of the hill where they 
had first met each other David would say : ‘‘The 
words I spake to thee at first were true words, 
my love, when I said. Blessed be the Lord God 
of Israel, which sent thee this day to meet me.” 

Sentiment is a beautiful thing, and too rare 
in this workaday world; but David was soon 
forced to see what his wife had seen from the 
first, that a master was needed to keep the serv- 
ants in order, and to carry on smoothly the vari- 
ous interests of a large property. 

“If my brother Ozem were here,” David said 


244 David, the Boy Harper 

one day to Abigail as they slowly rode up the long 
hill on their way back to camp, “he could keep 
everything in smooth running order. He cares 
not for war, but is happiest when surrounded by 
flocks and herds, and so are my other brothers 
who are in the land of Moab.” 

“I would that they might come and abide with 
us,’’ Abigail said, eagerly, for David had told 
her of his mother until she longed to meet her, 
and little Jesse’s cunning ways and bright 
speeches were familiar to her as household 
words, for David often repeated them. 

“Canst thou not go, my lord, and bring them 
with thee to Carmel?” Abigail timidly asked, as 
she read the wish in her husband’s eyes. 

“Wilt thou send me from thee so soon?” 
David asked, playfully, in answer to her question. 

But he was well pleased with her generous 
and sensible plan, nevertheless, and his nephews 
and Selim were overjoyed at the idea when he 
mentioned it to them a little later. 

“My sweet little Rachel will quite forget me, 
I fear,” Selim said, as he thought lovingly of his 
young wife. 

“Our mothers are growing old without their 
sons,” his nephews said, and David’s own heart 
was full of longing to see his dear ones again. 


To Moab and Back 


245 


He could not understand why no messages 
had come for months from the loved ones in 
Moab. At first a swift runner had come at inter- 
vals, bringing the king’s greetings and his assur- 
ances of the health and prosperity of all David’s 
kindred who were guests in his country, and 
David had sent in return valuable gifts of money 
and jewels; but for nearly a year no word of 
greeting and no assurance of safety had come. 

David reproached himself for neglect in wait- 
ing so long; but the great dangers which had 
threatened him for many months had driven 
other thoughts from his mind. 

It was decided by David and his captains to 
march against Moab with the whole force of six 
hundred men, and to demand, at the point of the 
sword if need be, the surrender of all the mem- 
bers of Jesse’s household. 

The women and children, a few of whom were 
in camp with their husbands and fathers, were to 
find a safe refuge in the home of Abigail until 
the troops returned from Moab. 

Gayly the men marched away, and Abigail 
bravely kept back the tears until David was well 
out of sight. 

‘T will make all clean and beautiful for his 
dear old mother, his devoted brothers and sis- 


246 David, the Boy Harper 

ters, and his beloved little captain with his 
wooden sword,” she thought, as she directed her 
maidens in their work of putting the great house 
in order, and making the courtyard beautiful 
with flowers and fountains. 

When David, at the head of his troops, 
reached the city gate of Mizpeh in Moab, he took 
the city by surprise, for he had marched by 
night, and no sentinel had seen him coming. 

‘‘Is it well with my father and my mother?” 
he asked of one of the city fathers who sat in 
the gate, and whom he remembered as having 
shown the family of Jesse great kindness on their 
first arrival in Moab. 

“I have bad tidings, my lord,” the man an- 
swered, slowly, and evidently sincerely. 

“Thy father is no more, thy mother has but 
lately followed him, the little lad died first, and 
the old shepherd is at the point of death. May 
God have mercy upon thee in thine affliction !” 

These last words were added as he saw the 
ruddy face grow white, and the blue eyes of 
David grow hard and stern as a swift suspicion 
of treachery flashed across his mind. 

“Why has no message been sent me by the 
king?” he asked, with husky voice and flash- 
ing eye. 


To Moab and Back 


247 


‘‘Come with me apart, and I will tell thee,’’ 
the man said, with a sympathy so sincere that 
David felt he could trust him. 

The soldiers remained outside the gate, and 
as it was hardly daylight few people were astir 
in the city. 

“At first the king was kind to thy kindred, 
but at last his jealousy was awakened by a fear 
that thy rich kinsman would leave his worldly 
goods to the household of Jesse instead of to 
the king, who is also a kinsman, and he shut thy 
father up a prisoner in his castle. No comforts 
of life were lacking, but only freedom, and thy 
father pined, for he was old and ill, and soon we 
were bidden to his burial. The little lad died 
of a childish disorder soon after thy departure, 
but they did not tell thee because they knew that 
thy cup of sorrow and anxiety was already full. 
Thy mother’s heart was broken for her husband 
and for the little lad, and she has declined until 
without pain she died, with a smile on her lips.” 

“Where is the poor old shepherd? I would 
see him before he dies,” David said, with a voice 
choked with emotion. “Take me to him first, 
before the king knows of my coming. I have 
somewhat to say to him later.” 

A little later David stood in the shepherd’s 


248 David, the Boy Harper 

hut, where Jobab lay pale and wasted, but with 
mind bright as ever. 

‘‘Thou art here in time, my lad,’’ he said, as 
he grasped David’s hand in his rheumatic fin- 
gers. “I felt thee coming, and I knew my dying 
eyes should see thee. Thanks be to God, who 
has given me the desire of my heart.” 

“Canst thou not live, old friend?” David 
asked, as he knelt at Jobab’s bedside. “I have 
three thousand sheep and one thousand goats 
in Carmel, and thou shalt be head shepherd if 
thou wilt but live and come with me.” 

“Another calls me, lad,” the old man said. 
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. 
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” 

The old man sang the words with broken, 
quivering voice, and, as if astonished that David 
did not join in the singing, he said, “Hast thou 
forgotten how to sing, my lad? I must hear thee 
once again before I die.” 

He repeated the strain, and with a voice as 
tremulous as the old shepherd’s own, David 
joined in the song. 

“Is it the treachery of the king of Moab that 
has broken the hearts of my father and my 


To Moab and Back 


249 


mother, and now is breaking thy heart, my faith- 
ful friend?” David asked, after a slight pause, 
while the dying man rested. 

“It would have come all the same,” Jobab 
answered. “It was the longing for the hills of 
Judah and the old, happy life. Young hearts cry 
out and live, but old hearts break in silence.” 

“And yet I did it for the best,” David said, 
remorsefully. “It was to save the lives of the 
aged and the very young that I brought thee 
here, and those are the ones whose lives have 
not been saved.” 

“He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth 
up their wounds,” the old man murmured, with 
a contented smile, and still holding David’s hand 
in his he fell asleep. 

“I will come again,” David said to Jobab’s 
brothers, who were caring for him, and softly 
drawing his hand away he crept out of the tent, 
that he might not awaken the dying man. 

“Now I am ready to meet the king,” David 
said to the old man, who had waited for him. 

They walked in silence to the royal palace, 
and as they reached the gate which surrounded 
it they saw that David’s presence was known. 

The king’s chief minister and a score of 
richly-dressed court officials were waiting to wel- 


250 David, the Boy Harper 

come him in the king’s name, and to inform him 
that a sudden illness made it impossible for the 
king to see him. 

‘'Say to thy master that I will come again, 
and then he shall see me, sick or well,” David 
answered, with a look before which the cringing 
officials quailed. 

Flattering words and proffers of assistance in 
preparing for the removal of his kindred fol- 
lowed, but all were haughtily refused by David. 

“We shall be gone before the sun sets,” David 
said, “and no crust of bread or drop of water 
will I take for myself or for my men of the king 
of Moab.” 

Going back to the gate of the city, David 
chose a score of his men to follow him to the 
castle, where his brothers and sisters were still 
prisoners. 

The guards at the castle had fled, and the 
sons of Zeruiah clasped their mother in their 
arms, while the mother of Amasa wept upon the 
neck of her son. Selim caught his young wife 
to his breast, and tears of joy and sorrow min- 
gled as they wept and laughed together. 

Hasty preparations were immediately begun 
for a removal from the castle, but in the midst 
of them a messenger came to say that Jobab was 


To Moab and Back 


251 


dead. He had never awakened from his peaceful 
slumber, and no one knew the exact moment 
when he died. 

A brief funeral was accorded the faithful old 
servant, and his body was buried at his master’s 
feet, according to his desire. 

It was now nearly sunset, and the king sent 
messengers begging David to remain with his 
family until the morrow. 

''I came by night, and I can go by night,” 
David answered, and the messengers carried the 
answer back to the king. 

As a last act of diplomacy and conciliation 
the king sent a train of riding animals and 
pack mules loaded with presents as a parting 
gift, a gift which was refused with scorn. Set- 
ting his sister Zeruiah, who now seemed like a 
mother to him, on Abigail’s gayly-appointed 
riding animal, which she had sent for his 
mother’s use, and mounting the other members 
of the family on mules and asses, while Rachel 
rode with her husband on his blooded Arabian 
horse, the little company turned their faces 
toward the land of Judah. 

They had not traveled a mile, however, before 
they were overtaken by a company of men, at 
the head of whom rode the kinsman of Jesse, 


252 David, the Boy Harper 

whom David had not visited for fear of causing 
him trouble with the king. 

''Tarry ye here with me for the night/’ the 
kinsman said to David. "I have a farm hard 
by, and there will we abide in peace till the 
morning.” 

Such a kind invitation could not be slighted, 
and the soldiers, who had looked forward to no 
better fare than the dry bread in their wallets, 
were rejoiced by royal fare, and clean straw on 
which to lie and rest. 

After all the household were asleep, David sat 
and talked with his kinsman, who told him the 
reason of the king’s treachery towards the family 
of Jesse. 

"The messenger returned a twelvemonth ago, 
and brought false news of thy imprisonment 
at the hands of Saul. 'He will doubtless be 
slain,’ the king said, 'and I shall receive no more 
from him or his friends for the maintenance of 
this large family.’ 

" 'My house is open to them, and I have no 
son to uphold the glory of my house,’ I said, 
whereat the king was angry, and would no more 
allow me to see or speak with thy father or thy 
brethren.” 

David was relieved to find that his kinsman’s 


To Moab and Back 


253 


heart was true, and that he was grieved at the 
conduct of the king. 

‘‘If thou wilt but defend the resting-place of 
my kindred where they are buried, I shall rest 
in peace,’' David said at last as day was breaking. 

Rested and refreshed, the travelers set out in 
the early morning, rejoicing that every added 
mile brought them that much nearer home. 

A sorrow that was not all sorrow filled the 
heart of David. 

“They are all together,” he thought, “my 
father and my mother and old Jobab, who will 
watch and tend the one pet lamb until I come 
to them.” 

He smiled as he thought of Jobab walking 
with his old, firm step along the banks of that 
still river, which flowed through the wide, green 
pastures which David had often seen in vision, 
and at his feet David saw in fancy the brave little 
captain, walking with military step and shoulders 
squared, while his wooden sword hung at his 
side. “I shall go to him, but he shall not return 
to me,” David thought, and a tear rolled down 
his bearded cheek; but there was no bitterness 
in the tear, for faith is the best comforter. 


XXIII 


DANGER AND DELIVERANCE 

W HEN the cavalcade reached the foot of the 
hill where David had first met Abigail he 
saw her again, surrounded by her maidens, and 
holding out her hands in joyful welcome. He 
sprang from his horse and caught her in his 
arms, murmuring again the fond words with 
which both were familial*. 

She looked lovingly, but a little anxiously, in 
her husband’s face; for by that sixth sense with 
which sympathetic women are endowed, she 
knew that he had suffered since she had seen 
him last. 

“What could it be?’’ she thought, as she 
looked quickly along the line of animals to where 
her own was standing. “If that was his mother, 
why did she ride apart from him, while the three 
sons of Zeruiah rode like a body-guard beside 
her?” 

“Wait until we are safe at home,” her husband 
whispered, in answer to her inquiring look. 

A feast was ready for the tired and hungry 

2.54 


Danger and Deliverance 255 

travelers, and with that thoughtful kindness 
which was Abigail’s crowning charm the soldiers 
were not forgotten, but shared in the general 
good cheer. 

Until the feast was over, Abigail asked no 
questions. 'Terchance the journey was too long 
for his parents,” she thought, ''or they may have 
stopped to rest by the way.” 

She was delighted with all her husband’s kin- 
dred, and for Rachel, Selim’s young wife, she felt 
that strong and sudden love which good women 
so often feel for each other. 

It was soon arranged that Ozem should take 
charge of the fields and vineyards, assisted by 
his brothers, who, though they were older, yet 
acknowledged his superior wisdom as a man- 
ager, while Selim was appointed to the post of 
chief shepherd and overseer of the vast flocks 
and herds. 

Though storms of war still spent their fury 
on the head of David and of his brave followers, 
his kindred had found a safe shelter, where many 
peaceful, happy days were spent. 

When David and Abigail were alone, she 
learned all the sad story of the fearful cost at 
which a shelter for his kindred in the land of 
Moab had been gained. 


256 


David, the Boy Harper 


father died a prisoner/' David said, when 
his story was done. 

“But it may be that his time had come to 
die, my husband, and that he would have died, 
even if he had staid in the land of Judah," Abi- 
gail said, trying to comfort him. 

Life went on serenely with the dwellers at 
Carmel for a few weeks, when a startling rumor 
reached David that King Saul was again march- 
ing southward with three thousand men. 

The fickle king had forgotten his solemn 
promise to spare David's life, and now that Sam- 
uel was dead, and all restraints removed, he re- 
solved to make one more effort to rid his throne 
of an aspirant whose claims he knew were 
stronger than those of his own sons. 

The meddling Ziphite spies, who had reported 
all of David's movements to the king, had told 
him that David and his men had journeyed to 
the land of Moab, and Saul's jealousy was im- 
mediately aroused as he thought of a possible 
alliance between his enemy and the king of 
Moab. 

When David found that Saul was really com- 
ing, he kissed his wife good-bye, ordered his 
troops to remain in camp until his return, and 
with his thirty mighty men who had previously 


Danger and Deliverance 257 

shared his wanderings, he fled to the fastnesses 
of the mountains. 

The Ziphites had mentioned the hill of Hachi- 
lah as the place of David’s concealment, and 
there at the foot of the hill, where Saul had en- 
camped before when Jonathan had stolen away 
from camp to visit his bosom friend, the tents 
of Saul and his captains were pitched, and camp- 
fires were kindled for the primitive cooking. 

But David remained in the wilderness that 
lay between the camp of Saul and the salt sea. 

One night a spirit of daring came over David, 
and he said to two of his captains, ‘‘Who will 
go down with me to Saul, to the camp?” Abi- 
shai, whose bravery was not of the blustering 
sort, but who was always ready in an emergency, 
said quietly, “I will go down with thee.” 

Quietly approaching the camp, David saw the 
well-known tent of Saul, with its curtains fast- 
ened back because of the heat. A light burned 
dimly in the tent, revealing the king asleep with 
Abner by his side, and with his spear standing 
upright at his head, while a cruse of water stood 
beside it, that the king might quench his thirst. 

How still the encampment seemed in the early 
hours that preceded the dawn; not a soldier 
stirred, not a dog barked, or a horse whinnied, 


17 


258 David, the Boy Harper 

and even David and Abishai almost held their 
breath ! 

‘^God hath delivered thine enemy into thine 
hand this day : now, therefore, let me smite him, 
I pray thee, with the spear, even to the earth 
at once, and I will not smite him a second time/’ 
These words Abishai whispered in David’s ear, 
while he pointed eagerly at the long spear which 
could so easily be thrust through Saul’s heart 
as he lay asleep. 

‘‘Destroy him not,” said David, “for who can 
stretch forth his hand against the Lord’s 
anointed, and be guiltless? The Lord shall smite 
him, or his day shall come to die, or he shall 
descend into battle and perish. The Lord forbid 
that I should stretch forth mine hand against the 
Lord’s anointed ; but, I pray thee, take thou now 
the spear that is at his bolster, and the cruse of 
water, and let us go.” 

No stronger proof of David’s masterly leader- 
ship is needed, than the fact that Abishai re- 
spected his captain’s word, and spared the king’s 
life. 

Like an eagle to its eyrie, David and his 
nephew climbed the height on which David’s 
tent had been planted on the memorable night 
of Jonathan’s visit. 


Danger and Deliverance 259 

Only one man could climb over the narrow 
ledges at a time, and Saul was too old and heavy 
to attempt such a feat, while Abner was no 
longer young. 

When they had reached a safe elevation, and 
stopped to recover breath, David looked down 
and saw the encampment of Saul lying at 
his feet. 

The swift dawn was coming, and soon the 
camp would be astir; but David could not wait, 
and, putting his hands to his mouth like a trum- 
pet, he cried, ‘‘Abner, thou son of Ner, answerest 
thou not for the king?’’ 

Abner sprang up, with his hand upon his 
sword, and called out, “Who art thou that criest 
to the king?” 

Standing out in the full light, David showed 
himself to the startled Abner and to King Saul, 
who was now thoroughly awakened. 

“Art thou not a valiant man?” David said to 
Abner, who prided himself on his valor. “Who 
is like thee in Israel? Wherefore, then, hast thou 
not kept thy lord the king? for there came one 
of the people in to destroy the king, thy lord. 
This thing is not good that thou hast done. As 
the Lord liveth, ye are worthy to die; because 
ye have not kept your master, the Lord’s 


26o David, the Boy Harper 

anointed. And now see where the king's spear 
is, and the cruse of water that was at his bolster." 

Neither Saul nor Abner could be sure that the 
man standing on the crag in the uncertain light 
was David ; but the king knew that voice, so un- 
like any other in its flutelike tones, and he cried 
out, as he had done before, “Is this thy voice, 
my son David?" 

“It is my voice, my lord, O king!" David 
answered, while he bowed himself and gave the 
sign of loyalty, which was never wanting in his 
intercourse with the king. 

“Wherefore doth my lord thus pursue after 
his servant?" David cried out. “What have I 
done, or what evil is in my hand? The king of 
Israel is come out to seek a flea, as one doth hunt 
a partridge in the mountains." 

Saul raised his voice that David might hear, 
and all the awakened troops listened in astonish- 
ment to his words. “Return, my son David," 
he said, “for I will no more do thee harm, be- 
cause my soul was precious in thine eyes this 
day; behold, I have played the fool, and have 
erred exceedingly." 

Abishai still held the coveted spear, and natu- 
rally thought that he might at least keep this 
trophy, won by his skill and daring; but David's 


Danger and Deliverance 261 

tender heart smote him at the thought of wrong- 
ing the king by taking from him so much as the 
cruse of water that Abishai still carried. 

Taking the spear from the hand of Abishai, 
David held it up and said, ‘‘Behold the king’s 
spear! and let one of the young men come over 
and fetch it/’ 

A slender youth, who was one of King Saul’s 
messengers, but who was unarmed, volunteered 
to climb the height and bring back the spear. 

When it was restored to Saul he took it grate- 
fully, for it was one of his most treasured pos- 
sessions, and with a renewal of his promises to 
David, he gave immediate orders to break camp 
and march away, leaving David in peace. 

Instead of feeling his former security after 
Saul’s fit of penitence and resolve to amend his 
ways, David shuddered as he thought of that 
dark, revengeful spirit, which could melt in ten- 
derness or harden in cruelty without a minute’s 
notice, and that when he became aroused to fury 
would not spare even his own son, the beloved 
Jonathan. 

“I shall now perish one day by the hand of 
Saul,” David thought in his heart, while a weak- 
ening of faith in God that he had never felt be- 
fore assailed him. “If I return to my home I 


262 David, the Boy Harper 

am not safe ; if I dwell in the mountains his hate 
may reach me. He counts me as his enemy, and 
I will become his enemy in very truth,” 

This sudden resolve was taken: “I will go 
to the king of Gath, before whom I played the 
madman. He will be glad to welcome me, with 
six hundred armed men behind me ready to fight 
the battles of whomsoever I shall give the word 
of command.” 

Straight back to his men in Carmel, David 
journeyed with his thirty mighty men. They, as 
well as the common soldiers, were eager to go, 
for they were weary of the tame life, whose most 
thrilling adventure was a skirmish with thieving 
bands of Bedouins or of Philistines. 

Abigail would not listen to any thought of 
leaving her behind. 

‘‘Didst thou not tell me that I was a soldier’s 
bride?” she said. “Where thou goest, I will go; 
for it is better to die with thee, than to live with- 
out thee.” 

With five faithful maidens to accompany her 
and to wait upon her, Abigail had no fear of the 
future, but began her preparations with a light 
heart, rejoicing that she was to be her husband’s 
companion in exile. Some of her most beautiful 
dresses and jewels she gave to Rachel, whose 


Danger and Deliverance 263 

wardrobe sadly needed replenishing after her 
long sojourn in Moab. 

''I fear me that my Selim fain would go with 
his master/’ Rachel said with troubled eyes as 
she sat in Abigail’s apartment on the evening 
before the departure of the army. 

‘‘Fear not, sweet friend; he is willing to stay, 
for he knows that he can so help my lord more 
than by going,” Abigail said. “We shall return 
in peace in God’s own good time, and then we 
shall desire to find the flocks and herds well 
tended. To thee, beloved, I commit the care 
of my flowers, and birds, and pets, and do not 
grieve for me in a land of strangers. Thy hus- 
band was far away when the roses paled in thy 
cheeks in the land of Moab ; but my noble David 
will be ever by my side, for there is no open war 
in the land to which we go, and we shall dwell 
in fenced cities.” 

The king of Gath welcomed the recruits who 
came to him from Judah offering their services 
to aid him in battle. Residences were appointed 
for them in the city of Gath, and for a while they 
lived like the men around them, on the spoils 
which were divided among the soldiers after a 
raid or victory over the enemy. 

We do not look upon a military life as a pro- 


264 David, the Boy Harper 

fession in which a man is likely to get rich ; but a 
soldier in those early days found war the shortest 
road to wealth and honor. 

Saul heard that David had gone over to the 
enemy, and no news could have pleased him bet- 
ter. It seemed to justify him in his attempts to 
destroy him as one guilty of treason and dis- 
loyalty. Besides, Saul reasoned, if David should 
remain in Gath, and ally himself to the Philis- 
tines, his brethren of Judah and of Israel would 
lose confidence in him, and refuse to receive him 
as king. It mattered little to the rebellious king 
how God’s purposes were overthrown, so long as 
they should come to naught in regard to the 
kingdom of Israel and its future king. 

After David had fully won the confidence of 
Achish, king of Gath, he asked permission of 
the king to live in the country, for neither he nor 
Abigail enjoyed city life. 

‘‘If I have now found grace in thine eyes,” 
David said to Achish, “let them give me a place 
in some town in the country, that I may dwell 
there: for why should thy servant dwell in the 
royal city with thee?” 

The little town of Ziklag was given to David 
at his request, and here he lived for a year and 
four months. 


Danger and Deliverance 265 

So absolute was the gift, that even after Da- 
vid became king, Ziklag still belonged to him, 
and to the kings who came after him. The bat- 
tles fought by David and his men were against 
the neighboring heathen tribes, instead of 
against his brethren of the children of Israel ; for 
at heart he was loyal still, and often thought how 
glad he would be to follow as a common soldier 
in the ranks of King Saul, and to fight by the 
side of his ever-loving friend, Prince Jonathan. 

Achish, however, never suspected this, and 
after a time he began to congratulate himself, 
saying, ‘‘He hath made his people Israel utterly 
to abhor him; therefore he shall be my servant 
forever.’’ He would have felt less assurance if 
he could have listened to David as he whispered 
in prayer, “O Lord, truly I am thy servant, I 
am thy servant, and the son of thy handmaid; 
thou hast loosed my bonds.” 


XXIV 

THE END OF KING SAULES REIGN 

the time when kings went forth to battle, 

Achish, king of Gath, began to gather his 
army together to march against the armies of 
Israel. David was ready to go with his men, 
for he longed for a sight of the land of his fathers, 
and he believed that the time was drawing near 
when his long exile and life of wandering should 
cease, and he should become king of Israel, as 
God had promised him. 

The winning sweetness and strength of Da- 
vid’s character had charmed the king of Gath 
as it did every one with whom he came in con- 
tact, so that King Achish trusted and believed 
in him as an angel of God ; but the princes of the 
Philistines doubted his loyalty, and refused to 
allow him to go with them to the battle, so he 
was saved the painful necessity of fighting 
against his dearest friend, Jonathan, and his 
brethren of the kingdom of Israel. 

The Philistine troops marched northward, 
and David and his men, who had started out with 
the army, turned back to the land of Gath. 

266 


The End of King SauFs Reign 267 


They reached Ziklag on the third day, and 
most of the men came back with glad hearts, for 
few of them were willing to fight against their 
brethren and their rightful king. 

David smiled to himself as he thought how 
pleased Abigail and Ahinoam, his two wives — 
for according to the custom of the times he had 
taken a secondary wife — would be at his return, 
for both had wept bitterly as he set forth to 
battle. 

Not until the men were fairly within the little 
town of Ziklag did they realize the awful ruin 
and desolation that had come upon the town 
since they had marched away and left it unpro- 
tected, except by the old men, the women, and 
the children. 

The streets were deserted, the houses burned, 
and the fields strewn with cast-off garments and 
articles which the terror-stricken captives had 
dropped in their flight, for the warlike Amale- 
kites, against whom David and his men had 
waged unceasing warfare for more than a year, 
seized the opportunity of revenging themselves 
while the men were absent, by burning the town 
of Ziklag, and carrying away captive the helpless 
women and children. 

This was indeed a sad welcome home, and, 


268 David, the Boy Harper 

strong men though they were, David and his 
companions gave way to tears and bitter weep- 
ing until they could weep no more. 

The loyalty that had never wavered in the 
breasts of those sturdy men who had followed 
David in all his wanderings now almost failed, 
and angry murmurs arose, and David heard 
some of his tried and true followers planning to- 
gether to stone him, in return for the misery and 
sorrow which had come to them in the loss of 
their wives and sons and daughters. 

The murmurings of his men cut David to the 
heart, for if they were bereaved and desolate so 
was he; but so great was his pity for them that 
he did not chide them for their disloyalty. 

He threw himself down in an agony of prayer, 
and his men, seeing his grief, forgot the threats 
which in their first bitterness of sorrow they had 
made. 

After inquiring of the Lord to make sure of 
the Divine approval, David with his six hundred 
men set out at once to rescue the captives, al- 
though all were worn and weary already with 
three days’ marching. 

After a hurried march they came to the brook 
Besor, and there they rested long enough to eat 
and drink before going farther. Two hundred 


The End of King Saul’s Reign 269 

men were so wearied and weakened by their un- 
usual exertions that they were unable to pro- 
ceed, and obtained leave of David to remain by 
the brook until he returned with the four hun- 
dred men who accompanied him. 

Although David felt sure he was on the right 
track in pursuing the Amalekites, he wondered 
that no stragglers had fallen in the way, and he 
was glad when a young Egyptian slave boy was 
brought to him, half dead with hunger and fa- 
tigue, but willing to tell all that he knew about 
the invasion and raid of the Amalekites. 

David was glad to learn that none of the cap- 
tives had been put to death, and, taking the 
young Egyptian as a guide, he hurried forward, 
eager to overtake the enemy before they reached 
their home. 

On a wide plain, green with grass and gay 
with flowers, David discovered the band of in- 
vaders, who had stopped to eat and drink and 
dance, and enjoy a day’s carousing over the rich 
stores of spoil and the goodly number of cap- 
tives which they had taken. 

They supposed that David and his men were 
far away, and no fear of pursuit disturbed their 
wild merry-making. 

It was already twilight, and the gay revelers 


270 David, the Boy Harper 

in the plain, many of whom were drunken, were 
unprepared for an attack when David and his 
brave men threw themselves into their midst, 
fully armed and eager for the fray. 

For hours the unequal fight went on, until 
evening of the second day, when those who were 
left of the Amalekites took possession of the 
swift camels belonging to the captains and 
princes, and four hundred young men thus es- 
caped. 

The captives were fastened together and im- 
prisoned in a row of tents which were a little 
removed from the plain, where the dancing party 
had been carried on. 

Abigail had succeeded in freeing her hands 
from the cruel rope that bound them, though the 
delicate skin of her wrist was bruised and bleed- 
ing from the effort; but she had heard David’s 
familiar war-cry, and she knew that her husband 
had come to deliver her. 

As the victorious followers of David came 
rushing towards the imprisoned captives, each 
calling out some well-beloved name, Abigail tore 
aside the curtain of the tent with her wounded 
fingers, and fairly fell into her husband’s out- 
Stretched arms. 

‘‘My love, my lord, I heard thy voice, and I 


The End of King Saufs Reign 271 

knew that thou wouldst deliver me/’ she mur- 
mured, as she laid her wet cheek against his 
bronzed and bearded one. 

Too tired and too happy to speak, David 
looked upon the face he had feared he should 
never behold again, while all around him loving 
words and happy laughter testified to the joy 
which David’s followers felt in seeing their loved 
ones safe and well. 

Lamps were lighted, food was hastily pre- 
pared, and the tired and hungry soldiers feasted 
and rested on silken cushions and soft beds, 
which were found in the luxurious quarters of 
the officers’ tents. 

The spoil, over which the invaders were re- 
joicing a few hours before, now fell into the 
hands of the victors, and David and his men for 
the first time had wealth enough and to spare. 

The flocks and herds were driven before the 
victorious army as it started on the return march 
to Ziklag, and enough tents with their furnish- 
ings were found to replace the burned houses in 
the deserted town. 

Each man carried as much as his strength 
would allow, and even the women and the chil- 
dren were loaded down with costly garments 
and valuable articles of household furniture. 


272 David, the Boy Harper 

Some of the men were unwilling to share their 
treasures with their comrades who had remained 
at the brook Besor; but David commanded them 
to divide the spoil equally, so all returned to 
Ziklag rejoicing, and not one of the captives was 
missing of those who had been taken away by 
the Amalekites. 

While David was inquiring of the Lord, and 
receiving assurances of the Divine favor, Saul 
in his extremity, with the enemy at his gates, 
was seeking in vain for direction from on high. 

Neither by dreams, nor by prophets, nor by 
the Urim of the priests could he obtain counsel 
and help, and he dared not go into battle with- 
out some assurance of victory. 

‘'If Samuel were in the land of the living he 
would inquire of the Lord for me,’’ Saul thought, 
as he mused alone in his tent. 

At last his purpose was taken. “I will call 
upon a woman with a familiar spirit, and through 
her I will commune with the spirit of Samuel,” 
Saul thought, for in his alienation from God he 
was willing to stoop to practices which he him- 
self had declared unlawful and degrading, and 
which as king he had punished. 

Disguised in rough garments, and accom- 
panied by two of his servants, Saul stealthily left 


The End of King Saul’s Reign 273 

the camp by night, and made his way to the 
lonely hut where dwelt the witch of Endor. 

At first the woman did not know the king, 
but when, at the command of her visitors, she 
called up the spirit of Samuel she uttered a loud 
cry of terror, and addressing the tallest of the 
three men she said, ''Why hast thou deceived 
me? for thou art Saul/’ 

"Be not afraid,” Saul said, "for what sawest 
thou?” 

"An old man cometh up,” she said, "and he 
is covered with a mantle.” 

For years before Samuel had died Saul had 
neglected and ignored him; but now in his su- 
perstitious fear he fell on his face at the word of 
an ignorant woman. 

"Why hast thou disquieted me?” a deep 
voice, which to the terrified and abject king 
seemed to be the voice of Samuel, inquired. 

"I am sore distressed,” Saul answered, in a 
trembling voice. "The Philistines make war 
against me, and God is departed from me, and 
answereth me no more, neither by prophets nor 
by dreams; therefore I have called thee, that 
thou mayest make known unto me what I 
shall do.” 

The deep voice that seemed to come out of 
18 


274 David, the Boy Harper 

the earth made answer to this pitiful confession 
of the king; but no form was seen but that of the 
gray-haired witch of Endor, as she gave herself 
up to her spirit of divination. 

‘'Wherefore, then, dost thou ask of me?’’ the 
stern and solemn voice demanded, “seeing the 
Lord is departed from thee, and is become thine 
enemy? And the Lord hath done to him as he 
spake by me: for the Lord hath rent the king- 
dom out of thine hand, and given it to thy neigh- 
bor, even to David. Because thou obeyedst not 
the voice of the Lord, nor executedst his fierce 
wrath upon Amalek, therefore hath the Lord 
done this thing unto thee this day. Moreover 
the Lord will also deliver Israel with thee into 
the hand of the Philistines : and to-morrow shalt 
thou and thy sons be with me: the Lord also 
shall deliver the host of Israel into the hand of 
the Philistines.” 

Prone on the ground the unhappy king fell 
as he listened to those dreadful words, so full of 
woe and sorrow for him and for his people. 

No words came to his lips, no prayer breathed 
in his heart; he had been fighting against God, 
and hope died in his breast as he listened to his 
doom. 

The woman roused herself from her trance, 


The End of King Saul’s Reign 275 

and hastened to the prostrate king with words 
of sympathy and pity on her lips. 

pray thee hearken thou also unto the voice 
of thine handmaid/’ she said, in softened ac- 
cents. 'Xet me set a morsel of bread before 
thee; and eat that thou mayest have strength 
when thou goest on thy way.” 

''I will not eat,” he said; but his servants, 
who knew that he had been fasting a day and a 
night, begged him to eat, and at last he per- 
mitted them to raise him from the ground and 
lay him upon a bed, while the woman made haste 
to prepare a savory meal. 

The fatted calf was killed, and a portion of 
the meat was broiled over the open fire, while 
unleavened cakes began to fill the humble room 
with their appetizing odor. 

The food was soon ready, and Saul and his 
servants ate together before starting out in the 
dark night to make their way back to the sleep- 
ing camp. 

By the fountain of Jezreel the Israelite camp 
was pitched, while the Philistine army was en- 
camped at Aphek, not far away. 

No sleep came to Saul in the few hours of 
early morning that followed the eventful night 
in the witch’s hut. 


276 


David, the Boy Harper 


At early dawn the camp was astir, for to-day 
a great battle was to be fought. Never had the 
army been in better trim; never had Abner or 
the king’s captains been more eager to fight; 
but Saul went about his preparations for the 
battle like a man in a dream, though he told his 
fears to no man, not even to his faithful and de- 
voted son, Jonathan. 

Mount Gilboa raised its crested dome near 
the plain on which the fighting began, and the 
Philistine generals from the first attempted to 
force the Israelite troops backward against the 
mountain, until their retreat was cut off. 

In this they were successful, for as the day 
advanced Saul’s army yielded, inch by inch, until 
the frowning height above them shut them in to 
almost certain death. 

The Philistine archers singled out the king, 
and directed their arrows straight against him; 
but he scorned to attempt to fly or to hide him- 
self. 

At last, sore wounded and weak from loss of 
blood, he begged his armor-bearer to thrust him 
through with his sword, that he might not be 
taken by the enemy. 

This the armor-bearer would not do, for it 
was our old friend who had served the king’s 


The End of King Saul’s Reign 277 

son so long and so well, and he preferred to die 
with the king, rather than to raise his hand 
against him. 

‘'There is but one thing left for me to do,’^ 
the unhappy king thought, as he heard the tri- 
umphant shouts of the Philistines as they 
charged against the fast-thinning lines of Israel. 
Fixing his sword upright before him he fell upon 
it, and the despairing soldiers who surrounded 
him gave a mighty wail of anguish, as they knew 
their king was dead. 

Three of the king’s sons, who were in the 
forefront of the battle, fell, one by one, and a 
panic seized upon the terror-stricken soldiers, 
who broke ranks and fled, only to be stricken 
down in their flight. 

The news of Israel’s utter defeat and of the 
death of the king and his three sons spread with 
the rapidity of lightning, and from the distant 
valley and the other side of Jordan the inhab- 
itants of the cities and villages hastened from 
their homes, and fled in wild confusion, seeking 
a place of safety, while the victorious Philistines 
took possession of the deserted towns and vil- 
lages. 


XXV 


DAVID CROWNED KING OF JUDAH 

T WO days only had passed after David's 
triumphant return to Ziklag from his vic- 
tory over the Amalekites, when the news of the 
battle of Gilboa and the king’s death reached 
him. 

He had thought almost constantly of his dear 
friend Jonathan; for with the intuition that comes 
with love he felt that evil had befallen his beloved 
brother, and he could scarcely wait for news 
from the army. 

At last a swift runner from the camp of Saul 
came panting into David’s presence, with gar- 
ments torn and earth upon his head, to show that 
he was the bearer of evil tidings. 

He fell at David’s feet with his face to the 
ground, as if David had been a king. ‘‘From 
whence comest thou?” David asked him, for he 
saw that it was no Israelite or usual messenger 
of the king. 

Raising himself from the ground, he an- 
swered, “Out of the camp of Israel am I es- 
caped.” 


278 


David Crowned King of Judah 279 

David almost dreaded to hear the news which 
the wild-looking young man had brought, but 
he forced himself to say: ‘‘How went the matter? 
I pray thee, tell me/’ 

“The people are fled from the battle, and 
many of the people also are fallen and dead; 
and Saul and Jonathan his son are dead also.” 
Reserving the worst news to the last, for all the 
people knew of David’s love for Jonathan, the 
messenger almost whispered the last words as 
he faltered them out. 

“How knowest thou that Saul and Jonathan 
his son be dead?” David said, hesitating to be- 
lieve the words of such an unknown messenger. 

“As I happened by chance upon Mount Gil- 
boa, behold Saul leaned upon his spear ; and lo ! 
the chariots and horsemen followed hard after 
him. And when he looked behind him he saw 
me, and called unto me; and I answered, ‘Here 
am I.’ And he said unto me, ‘Who art thou?’ 
And I answered him, ‘I am an Amalekite.’ He 
said unto me again, ‘Stand, I pray thee, upon 
me, and slay me ; for anguish is come upon me, 
because my life is yet whole in me.’ So I stood 
upon him and slew him, because I was sure that 
he could not live after that he was fallen: and 
I took the crown that was upon his head, and 


28 o David, the Boy Harper 

the bracelet that was on his arm, and have 
brought them hither unto my lord/’ 

As the young man finished his story he drew 
a package from his bosom, and unfolding the 
soiled cloth which covered it, he revealed the 
crown and bracelet in confirmation of his words. 

No triumph sparkled in David’s eyes as he 
looked upon the kingly emblems which he had 
first seen in their glittering beauty on the head 
and arm of King Saul, when he stood a humble 
shepherd boy in the royal presence. How dared 
this wild heathen lad to pollute these sacred em- 
blems by his profane touch? With one swift 
dagger-stroke David tore his tunic through from 
neck to hem, and all his soldiers followed him in 
this act of humiliation and bitter sorrow. 

^‘How wast thou not afraid to stretch forth 
thine hand to destroy the Lord’s anointed?” 
David asked, in tones which trembled with anger 
and grief. 

The Amalekite made no answer, for he real- 
ized that his tissue of lies had failed to bring him 
a reward as he had hoped, and that the sentence 
of death which hung over any one guilty of 
treason would fall upon him. 

No song had fallen from David’s lips for all 
the months that he had remained an exile in the 


David Crowned King of Judah 281 

land of the Philistines; but love and sorrow 
wrung from him some of the most exquisite 
strains that were ever written in memory of a 
loved friend. This inspired elegy is called ‘'The 
Song of the Bow/' and for beauty and pathos it 
has never been equaled. 

No harp was in David's hand as he sung the 
following words, and his voice trembled as he 
began the song, and almost died away before 
the mournful dirge was ended : 

“The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high 
places: how are the mighty fallen. Tell it not 
in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon : 
lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest 
the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. Ye 
mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither 
let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : 
for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast 
away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not 
been anointed with oil. 

“From the blood of the slain, from the fat 
of the mighty the bow of Jonathan turned not 
back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. 
Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in 
their lives, and in their death they were not di- 
vided : they were swifter than eagles, they were 
stronger than lions. 


282 


David, the Boy Harper 


“Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who 
clothed you in scarlet with other delights, who 
put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel. 
How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the 
battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine 
high places ! I am distressed for thee, my 
brother Jonathan; very pleasant hast thou been 
unto me ; thy love to me was wonderful, passing 
the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, 
and the weapons of war perished!'’ 

In memory of Jonathan, who had been a 
mighty archer, David commanded the children 
of Judah to teach their sons the use of the bow, 
and for many days no thought of personal great- 
ness came to David, while he wept and lamented 
over his friend and brother. 

Saul's treachery and unkindness to him was 
forgotten, and only the brave spirit and un- 
daunted courage of Israel's first great king re- 
mained as a memory in David's heart. 

It was unfitting that David should remain 
longer in the land of the Philistines. He could 
not endure the thought of seeing King Achish 
and his victorious troops return in triumph, re- 
joicing over the downfall of Israel. 

But before making any move David first in- 
quired of the Lord, “Shall I go up into any of 


David Crov^ned King of Judah 283 

the cities of Judah?’’ The answer came, 
up.” Whither shall I go?” is David’s request, 
and the answer came, ‘‘Unto Hebron.” 

The preparations for removal from Ziklag 
were quickly made, and all were glad to leave the 
scorched and blackened little town, which was 
not yet cleared of the debris which was left after 
the fire. 

The tents which had been taken from the 
Amalekites were packed for the journey; the 
flocks and herds were driven on ahead ; and more 
than a thousand souls of men, women, and chil- 
dren followed on camels, mules, and asses. 

Abigail was overjoyed at the prospect of 
again visiting her loved home, for Carmel was 
only seven miles distant from Hebron. 

David’s brothers heard that he was coming, 
and a royal feast awaited him and Abigail when 
they arrived in Carmel. 

Rachel came to meet them with a proud and 
happy smile upon her face, as she held up to 
their view her beautiful black-eyed boy, who had 
inherited his mother’s clear complexion and his 
father’s dusky eyes. 

“I have kept thy pets, my sister,” she said to 
Abigail, “and to them I have added this most 
beautiful pet of all.” 


284 David, the Boy Harper 

As she said these playful words she placed 
her smiling babe in Abigail’s arms, and her eyes 
filled with sudden tears as she saw how convul- 
sively the beautiful woman clasped the child in 
her arms, and buried her face against the little 
dimpled cheek. 

‘'Give me children, or I die,” was the prayer 
of every Jewish wife, and not until she clasped 
her first-born son in her arms, as she did a year 
later, was Abigail’s motherly heart fully satisfied. 

There were many deserted stone houses in 
Hebron, whose owners had marched to battle 
and never returned, and these were freely offered 
to David and his followers by the elders of Ju- 
dah, who were proud of their illustrious kins- 
man, and whose good-will had been cemented 
by a generous gift which David had sent them 
of the spoils which he had won in his victory 
over the Amalekites. 

The house assigned to David was large and 
well arranged, and after the household treasures 
from Carmel had been placed within it, as well 
as the most beautiful of the hangings and em- 
broideries from the tents of the Amalekites, it 
presented a cozy and homelike appearance which 
appealed to David’s beauty-loving soul, and gave 
him a feeling of perfect contentment. 


David Crowned King of Judah 285 

Fresh fruits and vegetables were brought each 
day from the broad fields of the Carmel home- 
stead, and Selim delighted to send his beloved 
master the choicest lambs and kids from the 
flocks, which had increased twofold under his 
careful management. 

David was in no haste to assume the kingly 
crown; but his brethren of the house of Judah 
came to him beseeching him to be their king; 
for Saul was dead and the people scattered, and 
no son of Saul remained to inherit the kingdom 
except Ishbosheth, the youngest, whose weak 
character and untried military prowess unfitted 
him for the responsible position of king in those 
stormy times. 

At last David yielded to the persuasions of 
his friends, and permitted Abiathar, the priest, 
to pour the anointing oil upon his head, and to 
set Saul’s kingly crown upon his brow, while all 
the people rejoiced and cried, ‘Xong live King 
David!” ‘‘Long live the king of Judah!” 

Meanwhile Abner, King Saul’s uncle and 
chief captain, who had escaped alive from the 
battle of Gilboa, was not idle. If all Israel ac- 
cepted David as king his power in the kingdom 
would be nothing, and his proud spirit could not 
stoop to swear allegiance to one who had come 


286 David, the Boy Harper 

into his presence as a humble shepherd boy only 
a few years before. 

He had little respect for Ishbosheth, who in- 
herited none of his father’s valor and bravery, 
but was weak and cowardly; but a puppet-king 
was better than no king at all, so Abner went 
about a policy whose end was to place Ishbo- 
sheth on the throne of Israel, with himself the 
real leader and controller of the affairs of the 
kingdom. 

Gibeah of Saul, as well as Jezreel, were in the 
hands of the Philistines, and the cities in the 
southern part of the kingdom were loyal to Da- 
vid as king; so Abner chose Mahanaim, a city 
on the east of Jordan, as the royal residence. 

Many of Saul’s followers, who had fled from 
their homes before the victorious Philistines after 
the battle of Gilboa, had found a refuge on the 
east shores of the Jordan, and these swore a half- 
hearted allegiance to the son of Saul, and to 
Abner, his chief captain. 

For seven years and six months David 
reigned in Hebron as king of Judah, and for the 
last two years of that time Ishbosheth reigned 
as king of Israel at Mahanaim. 

David was content with this state of affairs, 
for he was not ambitious for himself, and with 


David Crowned King of Judah 287 

his devoted followers, loving kindred, and idol- 
ized children he was indeed as happy as a king 
need hope to be. 

But Abner was ambitious, and stirred up the 
weak king to fight against David, that he might 
recover the house of Judah to himself. 

Just as Goliath had sent a challenge to King 
Saufs troops under Abner, so now Abner chal- 
lenged David’s soldiers through Joab, who was 
David’s chief captain. 

‘Xet the young men now arise, and play be* 
fore us,” was Abner’s challenge. 

He desired Joab to send twelve men of the 
bravest and best of the army to meet twelve 
picked men whom he should choose, and they 
in single combat should strive for the mastery. 

It was no play, but deadly strife, and each 
man rushed upon his fellow until the ground was 
red with blood. 

A general battle followed, and Abner was de- 
feated and turned in hot haste to retreat across 
Jordan. 

Three men who watched him as he went 
could ill endure to see him make his escape, for 
they knew that he was David’s deadly enemy, 
and that he more than any other man stood be- 
tween David and the crown of Israel. 


288 David, the Boy Harper 

These three were David’s nephews, Abishai, 
Joab, and Asahel, who since the days when he 
and they were boys together had been more 
like brothers than uncle and nephews. 

With one accord the three brothers started 
in pursuit of the fleeing captain, who was riding 
while they were on foot. Abishai and Joab were 
strong and determined, but Asahel was as light 
of foot as a wild roe, for the swift feet that dis- 
tanced his brothers in their race to the well by 
the gate long years before were just as light and 
as sure to-day. 

Little by little he gained upon his foe, until 
he was within speaking distance. Abner turned 
back and saw the light, graceful figure of the 
darling of David’s court, and he pitied the youth, 
for he knew that Asahel was no match for him 
in strength. So he called out to him to turn 
aside, and to fight with one of the young men, 
instead of with the chief captain. 

‘T must overthrow him for my David’s sake,” 
Asahel thought to himself, and pressed bravely 
on to conquer or to die. 

Alas! it was to die, and when the battle was 
over and the slain were counted, it was found 
that ‘^there lacked of David’s servants nineteen 
men and Asahel.” 


David Crowned King of Judah 289 

Three hundred and threescore men of Ab- 
ner’s ranks had fallen ; but there was more bitter 
sorrow in David’s camp over the loss of Asahel 
than over all the others who were slain. 

Tenderly they took up the body of the young 
man, and his brothers buried him beside his 
father, in that sepulcher in Bethlehem where 
their mother, Zeruiah, had so often gone to 
weep, and where now her tears fell afresh on the 
grave of her youngest-born. 

This burial was made at night, and they came 
again to Hebron at break of day. 

19 


XXVI 


KING OVER ALL ISRAEL 

T here was a long war between the house of 
Saul and the house of David; but David 
grew stronger and stronger, and the house of 
Saul grew weaker and weaker. 

At last the rupture came between Abner and 
the weak king he had made, and Abner came to 
David swearing allegiance to him as king, and 
promising to bring back to him the whole king- 
dom of Israel. 

David, who could never harbor a grudge or 
remember a slight, received Abner and the 
twenty men who accompanied him kindly, and 
prepared a feast for them, at which time the 
arrangements were made for the unifying of the 
kingdom under David as king. 

Well pleased with the success of his mission, 
Abner rode away until he came to the well of 
Sirah. There he was overtaken by messengers, 
who requested him to return to Hebron, as im- 
portant matters required his immediate atten- 
tion. 


290 


King Over All Israel 291 

Flattered by this prompt recall, and thinking 
that the post of chief captain was to be given to 
him, Abner turned back, little guessing that the 
avenger of blood was waiting outside the city to 
slay him for putting Asahel to death. 

When David found that Abner was dead, he 
mourned for him as he had mourned for Saul, 
and rent his garments and followed the bier of 
the fallen warrior to his grave. 

But he could not punish Joab for the deed, 
for the law allowed the nearest relative of a slain 
man to avenge him, unless the slayer took refuge 
in certain cities which were set apart as cities of 
refuge. 

This conduct of the king in mourning for 
Abner pleased all the people, as whatever the 
king did pleased the people. 

Ishbosheth had been unpopular even when 
Abner was living to prop up his throne; but 
after the death of Abner there were none to do 
him reverence, and he was basely killed in his 
own bedchamber. 

David punished the murderers of King Ish- 
bosheth by death, and gave orders that he should 
be buried beside the grave of Abner in Hebron. 

Now for the first time, but with no effort on 
the part of David, the way to the throne wag 


292 David, the Boy Harper 

clear, and representatives of all the tribes came 
to David at Hebron, saying: 

‘‘Behold, we are thy bone and thy flesh. Also 
in time past when Saul was king over us, thou 
wast he that leddest out and broughtest in Israel, 
and the Lord said to thee, Thou shalt feed my 
people Israel, and thou shalt be a captain over 
Israel.”^ So they anointed David king over all 
Israel, which was the third anointing which he 
received. 

David was still a young man, for, in spite of 
all the experiences through which he had passed, 
he was only thirty years old when he began to 
reign, and now when he was made king over all 
Israel he was only thirty-seven. 

A more central location for the capital of the 
kingdom was needed than Hebron afforded, and 
David had long realized that the stronghold of 
the Jebusites on Mount Zion, twenty miles north 
of Hebron, was the spot best adapted to become 
the city of the great king. 

In that wonderful vision of his boyhood’s days, 
when he lay asleep in the cave and saw the son 
of David, who was also the Son of God, he had 
beheld the glories of that resplendent temple on 
Mount Zion. 

Here he had seen the mother bring her 


King Over All Israel 293 

heaven-born babe; here he had watched the boy 
of twelve years old as he talked with the learned 
doctors of the law, and here he had heard the 
children singing, ‘‘Hosannah to the son of 
David/' 

This he resolved should be his royal city, and 
here, if God should will, he would build the 
beautiful temple he had seen in his dream. 

But the Jebusites were a powerful people, and 
so firmly were they intrenched and defended that 
they scorned the idea of being driven out of Je- 
rusalem. 

“The blind and the lame are able to protect 
us," they said, with a sneer. 

When David received this insulting message, 
he offered a reward to his soldiers, saying : 

“Whosoever getteth up to the gutter, and 
smiteth the Jebusites, and the lame and the blind 
that are hated of David's soul, he shall be chief 
and captain." 

This was the very opportunity for which the 
ambitious Joab had been waiting, and he first 
entered the city by an underground conduit, and 
opened the gates for David and his men to enter. 

The Jebusites were soon driven out, and Da- 
vid took possession of the castle and the strong- 
hold upon Mount Zion. 


294 David, the Boy Harper 

The castle, although it was a mammoth build- 
ing of stone, was more like a prison than a palace, 
and David began at once to plan for the building 
of a house which should embody richness and 
beauty with comfort and convenience. The 
kingdom of Israel had been engaged in long 
years of warfare, and the arts of peace had been 
neglected until they were well-nigh forgotten, 
except the spinning, weaving, and embroidery, 
in which the women excelled. 

But Hiram, king of Tyre, sent messengers to 
King David, offering to sell him cedar-trees, and 
to supply carpenters and masons to build him 
a house. 

This offer was accepted, and work was begun 
at once upon a palace that, when completed, was 
the most beautiful and costly that had ever been 
seen in any of the cities of Israel. 

The whole house of David were now in great 
honor. His three brothers and two sisters, who 
for nearly ten years had made their home in the 
house of Abigail at Carmel with their families, 
were brought up to the city of David, and in- 
stalled in beautiful homes of their own, befitting 
their exalted rank as relatives of the king. 

Selim also came as guest of honor with his 
young wife and bright little boy ; but after a long 


King Over All Israel 


295 


visit he begged permission of the king to allow 
him to return to Carmel, as the great estate 
needed supervision, and Selim delighted to carry 
it on for the benefit of David and Abigail. 

David’s two brothers, Shammah and Abina- 
dab, who had long enjoyed the position of cap- 
tains, were continued in their office with largely- 
augmented forces of men, and Amasa clothed 
himself in purple and fine linen, and rode on a 
royal mule, with even more state and magnifi- 
cence than the king himself. 

After the house of cedar was finished, and 
David with his family had taken up their abode 
therein, the king sat in the most beautiful room 
of his palace alone, and he mused of all the way 
in which the Lord had led him, from his boyhood 
until this hour. 

^‘What can I do for him for all his benefits 
to me?” he thought, as he remembered God’s 
goodness. Suddenly it flashed across his mind 
that the ark of God was sheltered only by cur- 
tains, while he dwelt in a house of cedar. ‘‘I will 
build a house of the Lord on Mount Zion,” he 
thought, ‘dike the temple of my dream.” 

When Nathan, the prophet, inquired of the 
Lord for David, he brought the king word that 
not to David, but to his son and successor should 


296 David, the Boy Harper 

belong the honor of building a temple unto the 
Lord. 

But with this message came such assurances 
of the Divine love and favor, that David was 
overcome with praise and gratitude to God. 

Who am I, O Lord God? and what is my 
house that thou hast brought me hitherto?’’ he 
cried. ^‘And this was yet a small thing in thy 
sight, O Lord God ; but thou hast spoken also of 
thy servant’s house for a great while to come. 
And is this the manner of man, O Lord God? 
And what can David say more unto thee? for 
thou. Lord God, knowest thy servant. 

‘‘And now, O Lord God, the word that thou 
hast spoken concerning thy servant, and con- 
cerning his house, establish it forever, and do as 
thou hast said. And let thy name be magnified 
forever, saying. The Lord of hosts is the God 
over Israel : and let the house of thy servant 
David be established before thee. Therefore 
now let it please thee to bless the house of thy 
servant, that it may continue forever before thee, 
for thou, O Lord God, hast spoken it, and with 
thy blessing let the house of thy servant be 
blessed forever.” It was such prevailing prayers 
as this that made David great. 

The ark of God was brought to Jerusalem 


King Over All Israel 297 

with shouting and great rejoicing, and was set in 
its place in the tabernacle which David had 
pitched for it, and all the people feasted and re- 
joiced, for the king gave to each man and wo- 
man a cake of bread, a good piece of flesh, and 
a flagon of wine. 

David also offered burnt-offerings and peace- 
offerings before the Lord. 

The kingdom was united, and no foe was able 
to stand before Israel, for God was with David, 
and no step was taken without Divine guidance. 

The bloody wars in which David engaged 
during the first years of his establishment in the 
kingdom were necessary to defend his country 
from their implacable foes, and to avenge the 
wrongs which the king of Moab had heaped 
upon David’s kindred, as well as to carry out 
God’s purposes upon the vile and heathen na- 
tions which surrounded God’s chosen people. 

After a time David began to question of his 
servants whether any yet remained of the house 
of Saul, that he might show kindness to him. 

Saul’s servant Ziba, who had once waited 
upon David for a short time, was told of the 
king’s wish, and came to David eager to speak 
a good word for his master’s house. 

“Art thou Ziba?” David said to him, for he 


298 David, the Boy Harper 

would never have recognized his old-time serv- 
ant in the portly man who appeared before 
him. 

‘‘Thy servant is he/’ Ziba answered, respect- 
fully. 

“Is there not any yet of the house of Saul, that 
I may show the kindness of God unto him?” 
David asked, with a sincerity that Ziba could not 
doubt or question. 

“Jonathan hath yet a son, which is lame on 
his feet,” Ziba answered, thus telling a secret 
which he had carefully kept for years. 

What joy came into David’s heart as he thus 
learned for the first time that his beloved Jon- 
athan had left a son. 

Careful questioning revealed the whole truth 
about the young man, of whose very existence 
David had been in ignorance. 

He was five years old when Jonathan was 
slain, and thus had been born after David’s pe- 
riod of wandering had begun. 

His nurse in trying to save his life had fled 
panic-stricken with him in her arms, and had 
dropped him, thus injuring his feet and making 
him lame for life. 

Now he was a young man with a wife and 
child of his own, and David sent messengers to 


King Over All Israel 299 

him begging him, for his father’s sake, to come 
to Jerusalem to see his father’s dearest friend. 

When he entered David’s presence, with a 
servant by his side to support him, David could 
only speak his name, and hold out his hands to 
him in loving welcome. 

So this was Jonathan’s son, smaller and 
weaker than his noble father, but with the same 
kindly gleam in his eyes, the same trick of smile 
and of gesture. 

'‘Fear not,” David said to him, "for I will 
surely show thee kindness for Jonathan thy 
father’s sake, and will restore thee all the land 
of Saul thy father, and thou shalt eat bread at my 
table continually.” 

"What is thy servant, that thou shouldest 
look upon such a dead dog as I am?” Jonathan’s 
son made answer, for he had bitterly felt his 
infirmity in a land where all were soldiers, and 
where to be lame was considered a disgrace. 

Saul’s possessions had been very great, and 
all were restored to Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s 
son, who received from Ziba of the fruits of the 
fields and the increase of the flocks, but who was 
not suffered to go away from the king’s pres- 
ence, for the love which had been so precious 
in David’s eyes surrounded the crippled young 


300 David, the Boy Harper 

man, and made him dear and honored. Day 
after day he sat at the king's table, not as a hum- 
ble pensioner, but as a beloved son, and the life 
that had been clouded by sorrow and misfor- 
tune blossomed out into beauty and worth, under 
the warm sun of royal love and favor. 

Michal, Saul's daughter, was restored to King 
David, as she had wrongfully been taken away 
from him, and she lived in royal state in the city 
of David ; but the bitter spirit which had marred 
her character, even as a young woman, now 
made her haughty and insolent manners dis- 
tasteful to the king, and she was wife only in 
name. 

Forty years did David reign as king, and they 
were years of marvelous growth and prosperity 
to the kingdom of Israel. 

More than once was he overtaken in a fault, 
or even in outbreaking sin ; but never did he lose 
his faith in God, or his love for the Holy One 
who had called him from the sheepcote, to be 
king and ruler of God's chosen people Israel. 





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